Harry Potter and the Return to Youth
by wormunderfoot
Summary: Abandoned Post GoF AU: In a wizarding world full of secrets and prejudices Harry Potter finds himself once again in the middle of his Headmaster’s machinations. With Voldemort looming, Harry fakes his death and begins his real education abroad.
1. Prologue

**Year One: Return to Youth**

By: WretchedMongrel

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that J.K. Rowling does. No profits or other benefits will be accepted for this work.

Summary: GoF AU. The summer after Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry finds Harry back once again at number four Privet Drive. A more calculating Albus Dumbledore realizes that in light of the events of his previous four years, a new plan is needed. Harry isn't ready to face Voldemort, and through a devious plan he is hidden abroad to continue his training for the eventual confrontation. Return to Youth is the beginning. Where the end is remains to be seen.

Spoilers: PS/SS, CS, PA, GoF

Prologue

o –––––– o –––––– o

The great stone cauldron immediately took my attention. The clear liquid lapped too solidly inside the cauldron to be water. There is Peter heating it now. Hmm, yes… the bubbles' purple sheen… it is heating so very quickly… what is that moving within those waters? Ah Tom, how desperate must you be to resort to this? Mercury and Unicorn blood; I wonder what else you've found to put in there.

I've always known Tom to have a nearly indomitable strength of will, but managing to survive as he has chills me. How will young Harry defeat something so powerfully stubborn?

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" As expected, the Grondablin Ritual of Reanimation. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master." I sigh as I hear the screams. It is such a pity that Peter's Gryffindor courage should manifest in such a dreadful manner. What will he not do to please his master? Hearing Harry's cries chills my blood. Dear child, at least Peter didn't kill you there and then.

The bubbles and steam are rising from the brew, it won't be long now. There, something is moving, it is him. Tall and rail-thin… here he comes now. Some of Nagini's venom must have found its way into the potion. Tom's face is greatly changed from what it was before his first defeat. With his serpentine facial features, emaciated form, and those spider-like hands, he will never be the charmer that he used to be. Hmm, the hand appears to be vaguely arachnid… Did he add acromantula blood in an attempt to increase his longevity?

Voldemort (I can hardly call this construct 'Tom' any longer) is as cruel as ever. His regaling of his unfortunate youth reminds me once more of Harry's suffering. I wonder… does Voldemort appreciate the similarities between Harry's upbringing and his own? Is he even aware of them? Here come the Death Eaters now. Just as Harry said, Lucius Malfoy is there. So too are misters Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Nott, and Macnair. It is good to know that all that Voldemort expected have been accounted for. Voldemort's flair for the dramatic remains unchanged. He is ever the glory seeker that Severus misguidedly sees in young Harry.

I recognize the triumph Voldemort's eyes and am unsurprised when he begins to gloat. "You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked ... for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it." Ah, so he does not know. We are fortunate that Voldemort does not seek to understand the nature of magic at its most fundamental, but rather seeks to understand how it can be used to further his own power. Indeed, Voldemort indubitably knew each and every affect, be it positive or adverse, in each of his procedures, as well as possibly a few of the combined effects of one with someone who had undergone one of his other transformations. Every reminder of my own blindness in regards to Quirinius is disheartening. If I cannot sense Voldemort when he is a pace away from me, what else have I missed?

Voldemort is handing back Harry's wand now, a mistake I dearly hope will be his undoing. I wince each time one of the Unforgivable curses hits Harry. My heart clenches painfully as his screams ring in my ears. Dear, young Harry, you never cease to amaze me. I could never doubt your house assignment. You would undoubtedly have been one of Godric's favorites. The way Harry stood up to Voldemort and the wonder that was the Priori Incantatem helps assuage my fears somewhat. As I observe the specters of Voldemort's victims moving about the golden cage, I can't help but wonder whether they share a connection with their respective spirits.

Little more can be gleaned from viewing the memories and I promptly lift my head out of the pensive. I drum my fingers atop the aged cover of _Forbidden Dark_ _Rituals: How to, When to, and Why Not to. _ If only there had been more time. Harry is obviously not ready. The poor wreck of a boy who will be leaving upon the Hogwarts Express within the hour was lucky enough to get away in the first place. Something needs to change. Three of these past four years Voldemort has managed to get to Harry in one form or another. If things stay as they are, I have little doubt that young Harry will be dead long before he sits his N.E.W.T.s. Somehow he needs to disappear…

A sharp knock on my door stirs me from my dark ponderings. It opens at my call. "Please come in, Professor McGonagall." My transfiguration teacher spares no moment as she briskly crosses my office and sits in the armchair before my desk. I proffer my usual favor: "Lemon drop?" I take one myself and sink back into my chair as the calming draught infusion sets to work.

She immediately waves off my offer. "Severus has returned, Albus," she reports. She continues in a more concerned vein, almost babbling, "I am very worried that You-Know-Who will kill him sooner rather than later. This is so very much to ask of him. I hope you have a plan to keep him as well as possible?"

At her words, concern wells in my chest. "He is with Poppy, no doubt?" I ask with raised eyebrows and white-knuckled hands. I take a deep breath before continuing, "Unfortunately, very few will escape what is coming unscathed Professor."

I can see tears well in her eyes. She blinks rapidly for a moment and none fall. With a strong nod she changes the topic. "The children are away in the carriages and we are ready to begin preparations for the summer." She turns to face my Hogsmeade window. "I assume we will be reverting to the old summer plan we followed during You-Know-Who's last uprising?"

I steeple my hands over my desk and look back at her, pausing momentarily before I continue. "That and more. I daresay we will not be alone in our toil this summer. Young Harry will find that he need see to a great deal of work himself." Ending that carefully crafted statement, I stare into Minerva's eyes and lightly look upon her thoughts. Her concern and affection for Harry will serve well; I expected no less.

Her eyes narrow. She couldn't have felt that… "What do you have planned for him, Albus?"

"Only what he needs to do. Would you mind spending a few days with Harry, Minerva? I fear any other company he is like to find will be unsympathetic, perhaps even hostile. Experiencing what he did and then being thrown to the dogs is pouring fat on fire, and we both want young Harry to remain as undamaged as possible."

She bites her bottom lip for a moment before replying, "'Only what he needs to do,' indeed! I have always been concerned about those-those Muggles you've left him with. I will pack after the afternoon staff meeting and leave after dinner."

I stand up with a glance at the whirling ward monitor on number four before looking up and smiling at her. "Excellent. I will be along in a few days, three at most. If things are too terrible for him, perhaps you could entertain him with an Animagus detection spell?"

She rises as well. "Oh, you and your twinkling eyes! Well, I'll be off, then. I will see you at the staff meeting, Albus." Twinkling indeed, but I can see I am not the only one who is most curious about Harry's form.

As she leaves I make my way to Fawkes' perch and absently feed him a handful of his favorite hazelnuts as I examine the whirling ward monitors one at a time before lightly petting Fawkes atop the head and walking to the Hogsmeade window.

Before my eyes is a vast panorama of the surrounding country, with Hogsmeade station directly in the foreground. I pick up my looking glass and look down upon the students. Harry must already be on the train. I rest my elbows on the window sill and watch until the train disappears in the distance. There is so much to be done. Harry _must_ be made safe. Fudge _must_ not be allowed to wreck us. There is so much to do and so little time. With a sigh I turn to my desk and get down to work.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Quirinius refers to Quirinius Quirrel – the first year Defense Professor.

This information and more is available at:

http/ Chapter: Of Cats and Dogs

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews, for without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.


	2. Chapter 1: Of Cats and Dogs

Chapter 1: Of Cats and Dogs

o –––––– o –––––– o

Slam! Uncle Vernon had entered the car. After he was settled in the driver seat he turned to look over his shoulder and spat, "Now listen here, boy. Your Aunt Marge has come to visit again. Picked her and Dudley up this morning. Now I won't be having you doing any of your unnaturalness and blowing her up again. You mind your manners and don't talk back! You hear?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry quietly replied. Oh, great; this was the last thing he needed. "She didn't bring Ripper, did she?"

"Yes, she did bring that menace, and you leave him alone. In fact, you're to stay in your room for the whole week she's here, boy! If it wasn't for your Aunt Petunia having a bout of sympathy for your rotten self I wouldn't have come to pick you up, what with what your freakishness did to Marge the last time she was here!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry sighed. Vernon snorted in disgust before he turned back around to drive. Harry settled his elbow on the door-side armrest and placed his chin in the upturned hand, staring blankly out the window. This was going to be a long summer. Hedwig hooted softly and Harry smiled weakly at her and put his other hand atop her cage before returning his gaze to the window.

It was a clear day and the traffic on the A3 motorway wasn't terribly bad after getting away from inner London. An hour-long blur of Uncle Vernon's grumbling, suburban development, and the rolling hills of south England found Harry exiting the car and lugging his trunk from the gravel driveway up the walk to the front door of number four.

Vernon stalked ahead of him, unceremoniously yanked the door open and slammed it in Harry's face. "Welcome home," Harry muttered under his breath before cracking the door open.

He was met with a hall full of Dursleys. Cousin Dudley and his collection of chins made up the rear as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, looking decidedly bored. Aunt Petunia scowled at Harry from just outside the living room. And to Harry's dismay, right in front of him, his uncle Vernon was being embraced by the large and spiteful female version of himself called Aunt Marge. The only change in Aunt Marge, since last he saw her, was that her face went from merely purple to a deep violet when her eyes landed on Harry. "Still here, are you?" she bellowed. "I would have thought you'd be given the boot after what you did last summer! Vernon never told me what sort of drugs you put in the brandy… you should be in jail, or better yet, ten feet under after pulling a stunt like that! You despicable, despicable thing! Ripper here will see to you," she turned to her bulldog, "wont you, boy?"

Aunt Marge and Ripper were as good as their word, for no sooner had Aunt Marge spoken than Ripper leaped at Harry. The dog clawed at Harry's shins and bit at his legs before sinking his teeth into Harry's left calf. With a scream and much jumping about by Harry and laughing from the Dursleys, Harry finally managed to kick Ripper loose. The dog growled ferociously before charging again. Harry was ready this time and met Ripper's leap with a swift kick to the dog's chin. With a loud yip, Ripper turned tail and hid behind Aunt Marge.

"How dare you kick my poor Ripper! Vernon! Do something about this filthy vagabond of yours!" Aunt Marge snarled.

Vernon obliged. "How dare you boy! Up to your room! Now, and stay there! I won't have you rewarded with supper for that!"

Harry was more than willing to get away. He grabbed a handle on his trunk and as quickly as he could, he dragged it upstairs under the baleful glares of his relatives and Dudley's darkly amused chortling.

No sooner had Harry placed his trunk by the foot of his bed than his Uncle Vernon entered. "You're lucky your Aunt Marge can't remember your unnaturalness from her last visit. Keep that ruddy owl in the car till supper. You're to fetch the thing while we eat and keep it QUIET! You hear me, boy?" Vernon threatened before smacking a fist into the palm of his hand.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," was Harry's melancholy reply as he flopped onto his bed.

"You'll look at me while I'm talking to you, boy! You're not to join us for supper either, as I said. Stay up here if you know what's good for you. I'll be putting up the locks once Marge has gone. You best behave and do as we say or else there will be no food at all for the rest of the summer!" With that threat still hanging in the air, Vernon turned and left the bedroom.

Harry could hear arguing voices down the stair. For now he was content to lie there. Cedric… Voldemort... Why did he have to be so bloody 'noble'? See what happens when he tried to help people? They die! If only he could keep his sodding mouth shut. Harry shivered and swallowed hard as a sharp pain squeezed around his heart. Abruptly, he sat up and went to his trunk, from which he extracted the photo album Hagrid had given him in his first year. Harry opened it and gazed at a wedding photo of his parents. They looked so happy gazing at each other in the center of the picture. On James's side Harry could see the Marauders, and on his mother's side there were two beautiful women that Harry did not know. He had eyes only for the wedded couple, though, and tearfully traced his fingers over them. They were dead and he was alive. Now Cedric was dead, Voldemort was back, and Harry was probably going to die soon, too.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon moping and staring at photos of his parents and the new ones he'd added of his Gryffindor friends. 'Cedric deserves a spot here, too,' he thought miserably.

The sun slowly set over Privet Drive and it was dusk before Harry could hear the sounds of Aunt Petunia cooking supper over the blaring of the kitchen telly. At five minutes past six o'clock, she called Dudley down from his room, where he had undoubtedly been playing video games. As the Dursley family ate, Harry silently stole down the stairs and as carefully as he could; he tiptoed to the front door which he carefully opened and closed behind him.

Harry gasped in surprise as he caught sight of Uncle Vernon's car, or rather, what was sitting on the hood. Harry pulled himself together and looked both ways before walking quickly to the car and asking in a hushed voice, "What are you doing here, Professor?" The tabby cat meowed, jumped down and walked towards the front door of number four. She stopped, looked straight at Harry, and then turned to look as meaningfully as a cat can at the front door. "Do you want to come inside?" The cat meowed again and trotted up to the porch.

Harry opened the rear passenger door of his uncle's sedan and took out an angry Hedwig, who hooted loudly and shot him a look that shouted, 'What took you so long?' "I'm sorry, girl, but Uncle Vernon wouldn't let me out to fetch you. Please, please be quiet. Aunt Marge is here and Uncle Vernon will have you locked up if he stops to think about it. He'll do it, too, if you make a racket." Harry reached inside the cage to stroke Hedwig's head but the owl jerked forward and pinched Harry's hand hard with her beak before turning around in her cage and looking away from the boy. Harry sighed, 'Can't anything be easy?'

Mindful that his professor was waiting, Harry rolled up the car window and closed the door before walking up to the porch where the tabby cat was sitting. He kneeled down to the cat and whispered, "the Dursleys are eating, so please just follow me to my room. The Dursleys have a Muggle visiting that doesn't know about us." The cat nodded and rubbed her face against Harry's ankle. As carefully and quietly as he could, Harry opened the front door and slipped inside with Hedwig's cage.

He wasn't quiet enough, for Aunt Marge suddenly bellowed, "Hey, boy! Don't you dare try to sneak out! Trying to run off and be the no good vandal you are, aren't you? We won't be having you scaring Vernon's neighbors any more than you already do! Ripper! Go get him boy!" She sounded drunk.

Harry raced up the stairs with Hedwig's cage and Professor McGonagall right behind him. As he stopped to open the door though, Ripper came charging up the stairs and Harry only just closed his door before Ripper got there. While Ripper barked and clawed at the door, Harry carried Hedwig's cage over to its usual corner before opening it and letting his upset feathered friend out. "I'm sorry for all the chaos, Professor, but there really is little I can do about it," he said as he opened his window and looked pleadingly at Hedwig. "Please, girl, I know you're upset but could you please go and stretch your wings and hunt some dinner while you're about it?" Hedwig hooted with agitation and gave Harry another look before flapping out the window.

When Harry turned around Professor McGonagall had already changed into human form. "Well, Mr. Potter, while I am pleased to see you… that was a rather rushed greeting and introduction. May I assume you do not want your aunt and uncle to know that I am here?" she asked, conjuring a plush armchair and sitting in it.

"Well ye… not yet, that is. If the Obliviators have to come for Aunt Marge again, the Dursleys will be worse than ever. Please say I don't have to stay here. Can't I stay with Sirius or the Weasleys?" Harry knew it was a futile question, but he had to ask.

" I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Potter, but with the return of You-Know-Who, it is impossible for you to leave for quite some time, a month at least." She paused a moment and her lips curled in a faint smile as she looked at him. "But with your approval, I will be visiting for a few days. The Headmaster and I thought you could use some sympathetic company so soon after the third task," she finished softly.

Harry frowned and stared at the floor. "Yeah… probably," he muttered.

McGonagall frowned. "If you do wish to talk about it, I will listen. You do know there was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened?" She leaned towards Harry while finishing with quiet conviction.

Harry visible struggled with himself before rubbing his eyes and replying in a choked voice, "But if I wasn't so bloody noble Cedric wouldn't have taken the cup! He'd be fine and I would have been the only one who'd have gone to Voldemort."

McGonagall paused for a moment and her brows furrowed in thought. "You told Professor Dumbledore that when your wand connected with You-Know-Who's that Mr. Diggory came out of it, correct?" She said quietly.

"Yeah," he replied as he looked down and shuffled a foot.

"When he came out what was he like? You said that he spoke to you…" McGonagall continued delicately.

"Yeah, he told me to hold on… and to take his body back to his parents," Harry's voice broke.

"Both Professor Dumbledore and I believe that the shades that issued from You-Know-Who's wand were connected to and sustained by the actual spirits of the departed themselves. Peter Pettigrew's hand vanished in an instant… but they endured for the duration of the Priori Incantantem." He looked up in shock, but she wasn't done yet, "Did Mr. Diggory look like he blamed you for his death?"

"No… no, he didn't. He just wanted me to take his body back," he said weakly.

"If he doesn't blame you for his death, then by what right do you blame yourself?" She imparted this significantly and with her head held high.

She knew she had given him a lot to think about. After a minute of silently studying him, she sighed and stood out of her chair. "Well then. This hardly looks like suitable quarters for the two of us. Let us see what can be done," she said in a clear effort to change the subject.

With a complicated wand movement which ended with a large overhead loop and then swishing down and then up she cast a spell. The red flare of magic impacted the ceiling, and suddenly it was rising and the room stretched up like pulled clay. Then the red spot broke in four and shot to the corners of the room and stretched those walls as well. Harry's room was now approximately the size of the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts.

Harry stood there gaping as his transfiguration professor showed off her skill. She changed his bed into a king sized canopy bed with elegant red and gold hangings. With a few more flicks his desk was a grand oak desk with drawers and file cabinets, his desk chair grew arms and was turned steady and cushioned, his wardrobe expanded, and his nightstand was leveled. All of his furniture was gleaming; clean and well polished. "Carpet or wood flooring, Harry?"

"Uh… carpet," he stammered.

"Carpet it is, then." With a last flick, the carpet turned red and looked new. A tiny bag appeared in her hand, which she enlarged before she reached into it and took out a reading desk, several books, and a basket filled with red and gold velvet pillows. She placed the desk alongside Harry's own and the basket in the far corner of the room, away from the bed.

Harry's stomach growled as McGonagall turned back to him. "Have you eaten yet, Harry?" she inquired, shooting an inquisitive look at his elephantine shirt. The shirt had been Dudley's, after all.

"No, Professor, they sent me to bed without supper after I kicked Aunt Marge's dog. You saw him earlier when he chased us up the stairs." Harry scowled.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed at that. "I thought something of this sort might happen." She immediately conjured a small round table with two chairs before she pulled a hand-bell from her bag and rang it loudly. Dobby appeared with a loud pop.

"What can Dobby do for Professor McGonagall, ma'am?" Dobby bowed before McGonagall. His precarious pile of hats swayed dangerously and finally fell when he looked at Harry and gave a tremendous start. "HARRY POTTER, SIR! Dobby is so happy to see you!" The excited elf immediately launched himself at Harry's legs and hugged them tightly.

"Dobby," Professor McGonagall asked, slightly amused, "Can you please see to fetching some dinner for Mr. Potter?"

Dobby turned to look at Professor McGonagall and blinked before turning horrified eyes up to Harry. "Harry Potter is not eating? What can Dobby bring for Harry Potter to be eating?" The elf released his hold on Harry's legs and looked up at his face with earnest fervor.

"Umm… whatever is easy, Dobby. If there is anything left over from dinner at Hogwarts, it would be fine," Harry answered uncomfortably.

Dobby immediately disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Harry took a seat at the table and folded his hands in his lap. "How long will you be staying, Professor?"

"I said a few days, three at most I think. Professor Dumbledore has a few things to see to before he will be taking my place," she replied as she sat opposite Harry.

"But… I'm not important enough for that! Professor Dumbledore must have so much to do; he shouldn't be wasting his time on me!" Harry exclaimed.

"I don't think Professor Dumbledore is the sort who wastes his time, Harry," McGonagall chided.

A pop sounded and Harry jumped in his seat. Dobby was back. "Dobby has ham and duck and dumplings and salad and noodles with sauce and meat ready for Harry Potter, sir!"

"Some of the ham would be great, Dobby… with some of the salad, Italian dressing please, and add a baked potato, if you can," Harry told Dobby as politely as he could. "Oh, and please bring something to drink; water is fine."

Dobby beamed and with a snap of his fingers the requested meal appeared on the table upon the finest china Harry had ever seen. Dobby bowed deeply before Harry. "Is there anything else Dobby can do for Harry Potter?"

"No, I'm fine…" Harry began, but Professor McGonagall interrupted, "please summon a slice of the chocolate cake we had for desert, Dobby, along with a generous scoop of never-melting vanilla ice cream." McGonagall smiled briefly at Harry's incredulous look.

A snap of Dobby's fingers later, the dessert occupied the far side of the table away from Harry. Another snap and Dobby disappeared.

"Please eat, Harry," McGonagall requested. Under his Head of House's gaze, Harry ate as quickly as he could while maintaining as perfect manners as he knew how. It wouldn't do to look a slob in front of her, Harry thought.

The cake and ice cream was all gone and there was a slice of ham, a third of the potato remaining when Harry had eaten his fill. He announced he was full and McGonagall vanished the table, dishes, scrapes, and all.

"As you are still subject to the ban of underage magic, there are a few things I had thought we could do while I am here. I've brought with me a few transfiguration texts that would do nicely to supplement your current grasp of the subject," McGonagall pressed.

The last thing that Harry wanted to do was to study on his first night home from school. "Studying is the last thing I want to do tonight," Harry sullenly replied. His eyes darted around the room as he looked for a way to divert her. He caught onto a pile of Dudley's old board games, "how about a game of Scrabble instead?"

Professor McGonagall paused a moment and considered Harry before nodding. "Very well. You will have to teach me this game, as I have never heard of it before. Is it anything like Muggle chess?"

"It's played on a board, but otherwise it's nothing like that," Harry smiled half-heartedly before he dove into his open wardrobe where he pulled 'Scrabble' out of the dusty pile of board games he'd noticed before. "Can you bring back the table and chairs please? Without the plates and everything."

McGonagall re-conjured the table and chairs. Harry placed the Scrabble box on the table and took out the board, letters, and the letter holding blocks. "How the game is played is that you take seven letters and put them on your block, like this," Harry took seven random pieces that had been face down on the table and put them on his holding block. "Then you try to use them to spell words on the board. After the first person goes in the center, the players take turns and must use already placed blocks to attach their words to. You earn points based by the little number on the letter blocks. You can see that on the board there are places where you get bonuses. If you can't think of a word to make with what's on the board with your hand you can exchange one of your letters with one from the pile. Blank blocks can be used as anything but once placed remain the same throughout the game and are worth no points. At the end the person with the most points wins." Harry finished his explanation with a sigh. "Well, let's play."

Professor McGonagall began the game thoroughly amused but soon lost patience with Harry's use of Muggle terminology and repeated use of 's' and 'ed' on words she placed. The score was close halfway through when they heard Ripper snarling outside the door. Luckily, Aunt Marge called him away to the guest room after only a few choice words to the dog about Harry-the-delinquent-criminal. McGonagall frowned at the door but remained seated.

Harry wondered what his relatives' reaction would be when they saw his new and improved room. Professor McGonagall ended up winning the game through her use of a combination of wizarding lingo that Harry was completely oblivious to along with names of wizarding places, instruments, and practices that went completely over Harry's head.

Chagrinned, Harry conceded. After they were done cleaning up, Professor McGonagall decided that it was time to go to bed. Harry changed into Dudley's long shirt that he normally slept in behind the curtains of his new bed while Professor McGonagall returned to her cat form and retired to the basket she'd brought with her.

As he went to sleep, Harry wondered if perhaps this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter: What form is my form?

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews, for without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.


	3. Chapter 2: What form is my form?

Chapter 2: What form is my form?

o –––––– o –––––– o

The glare of the early morning sun peeking through the curtains of his bed woke Harry from a surprisingly nightmare-free sleep. Harry sat up groggily on his bed and stretched before poking his head out of his curtains.

With a glance around his room he noticed that McGonagall's basket was empty. He slipped out of his bed, and after a few steps, he spotted a note left atop the gaming table from the night before.

_Harry,_

_I have returned to my home in order to take care of a few matters. I will return by noon. If you can, please meet me in your front yard. I would prefer to avoid obliviating your Aunt Marge if possible. _

_-Professor Minerva McGonagall_

_Gryffindor Head of House_

_Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

With a more critical examination of his room Harry noticed that while the reading table and basket remained, the bag that carried them had vanished along with its owner.

After a moment's thought, Harry grabbed up some of Dudley's more worn second hand clothes and left his room for the shower. He spent as little time as possible in the shower in an attempt to avoid a confrontation with Aunt Marge. Five minutes later he was clean, clothed, and he had combed his hair into some semblance of order with his fingers.

Harry needed a plan so that he could be outside when McGonagall came back. He paused a moment before heading toward the stairs. This should work well. He tiptoed down the stairs and snuck into the kitchen. If there was one way into ingratiate himself to the Dursleys, it was through their stomachs. Maybe they'd let him out of his room to weed the front garden if he cooked their breakfast.

With practiced precision he began cracking and scrambling eggs, frying bacon, and toasting bread. By the time Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later, there was a nice spread already arranged on the kitchen table and Harry had a full belly.

"What do you think you're doing?" Aunt Petunia demanded.

"I thought I would try to show some initiative and cook everyone breakfast. Afterwards I thought I'd tend the front garden," Harry replied, in as reasonably as he could.

His aunt Petunia's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why? You've never showed any initiative before, you brat."

"Well maybe that's because I've never had a chance to!" Harry responded heatedly; he couldn't help himself.

"Hogwash! There were days last summer where I did all the cooking! And you know it!" Petunia sneered.

"Well the only reason why I didn't do it then was because I was slaving away doing other chores that just had to be done during meals," Harry growled nastily. "That or you didn't trust me not to poison the guests."

With those words barely out of his mouth, and his aunt's face in mid-contortion, Aunt Marge burst into the kitchen. "What do you think you're doing, you lazy vagabond?" She looked down at Harry with utmost loathing.

Quick as a whip, Harry turned to face her and said, "I had just finished fixing breakfast for everyone and thought I could help out by weeding the front garden and trimming the bushes and hedge. It's overgrown because I haven't been here to tend it since last summer."

Uncle Vernon, red faced and snarling, entered the kitchen right on his sister's heels. "What's all this hollering about?" he demanded.

"Your delinquent nephew's made us breakfast and wants to weed out front," Marge replied while casting a suspicious glare at Harry. "Is it safe to eat his cooking?" She turned to glance at Petunia.

During the conversation Petunia managed, with a great deal of effort, to visibly control herself. "He hasn't poisoned us before, and he won't start now if he knows what's good for him," she said, and gave Harry a pointed look.

"Just as well he finally got off his arse and did some honest work around here!" Vernon declared. "Finally doing his share to earn the roof over his head and food we put in his belly. You can weed out front, boy, and take a piece of toast for your breakfast."

Aunt Petunia sighed and nodded. "You're not to start till after nine o'clock; give the neighbors some time to leave before you show your ugly, dirty self."

Marge snorted, "Move along, boy. Can't have you down here when Ripper wakes up. He's having a bit of a lie in and can't be troubled with the likes of you."

Harry marched over to the table and nicked a piece of bread before retreating to his room with a last glance at the kitchen clock. Seven-thirty. He had an hour and a half to kill before he went out. After a bit of thought he decided it wouldn't hurt too badly to begin his summer homework and dug through his trunk until he found his Transfiguration assignment.

"_Read the introduction and following three chapters on Vanishing spells in Intermediate Transfiguration, summarize and discuss the reading in a 56 inch essay. Include basic theory, wand movements, and basic differences in the basic forms of Vanishing_,_ including permanent movement and temporary movement of both organic and non-organic materials."_ Harry's eyes popped. Fifty-six inches! Hermione must be in heaven. Still, there was nothing to do about it. He gathered up his Transfiguration book and began reading.

Approximately an hour later, Harry was trying to concentrate on the loop-and-pull wand movement of the permanent non-organic variety of Vanishing. The front door opened and closed and Harry rushed to his window and watched his Uncle Vernon leave for work in his company car.

Harry went back to his reading, and once he finished the chapter, he tiptoed down the stairs out through the front door. He closed the front door soundly and took a relieved breath; he really didn't feel up to another encounter with Aunt Petunia. He stole around the house, through the gate along the path between the garage and house, and continued to the greenhouse in the backyard. He took a pruning saw, some clippers, a pair of gloves, and a trowel before sneaking back to the front yard. He began his work by shaving the shrubs that lined the driveway back into spherical form. He then moved on to the hedge that separated number four from number two and trimmed it square. After gathering the clippings into a pile, he began weeding and pruning the flowerbed between the two hydrangea bushes that grew at opposite corners of the large living room window.

He had just finished pruning one of the hydrangea bushes in front of the living room window when Professor McGonagall hoped over the garden wall and walked to him. "Please give me a few minutes to weed the lawn and finish this pruning and I'll be able to join you inside, Professor," Harry whispered to the cat. The tabby cat nodded and sauntered back to the garden wall, where she lay down in its shadow.

Five minutes later, when Harry had just finished, Ripper banged through the gate Harry had left open and dashed straight for Professor McGonagall. He was closely followed by Marge, who yelled and whooped at the barking dog, "Go get 'im boy! That's it! Tear the nasty cat up!"

Professor McGonagall leaped up with a loud screech before jumping over the fence and went running down Privet Drive, past number two, and turning the corner onto Cleistes Way. Ripper was right on her heels and a moment after they turned the corner a 'pop' sounded, which was immediately followed by a loud yip. Ripper came tearing back towards number four, his short dark fur had been had been turned poodle-white and curly. Ripper's formerly deep bark had changed poodle-high and he went yipping back to Aunt Marge as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.

"RIPPER! What happened to you? Oh! My Ripper! Come to Mama," Marge bellowed hysterically as she waddled as fast as she could to intercept and pick up her curly white canine. Harry couldn't contain his laughter, and his giggles became tearful shrieks when the former bulldog relieved himself all over Marge's skirt. Marge screamed again and dropped the dog and with a manic gleam in her eye she howled and kicked Ripper so hard he went flying and fell limp on the street. She gasped again with horror upon realizing what she had done and ran once again after her now wounded dog. She picked him up once again and he resumed wetting her blouse as she cuddled him. Aunt Marge ran past Harry into the house and slammed the door after her.

Harry was still chuckling to himself as he gathered up his tools and put them back in the greenhouse. He re-entered the house through the kitchen door in the back and encountered Aunt Petunia in the hall as she came through the front door, obviously having been looking for him.

"How dare you do that to Ripper!" his aunt snarled. "That's it! You're staying in your room for the rest of the summer! No meals for three days! I can't believe you!"

"But Aunt Petunia, I didn't do anything," Harry replied with a smile tugging at his lips. "I was by the hydrangea bushes the whole time! Ripper got cursed after he chased some wizard's cat around the block to Cleistes Way. They're keeping a closer watch on me than ever this summer, what with Voldemort being back and all."

Petunia's face paled before she shook her head and glared at him. "You're making this up boy, he can't be back. He's dead! You filthy liar, don't you try to scare me like that." She licked her trembling lips.

"Well he is! I saw him brought back to life in the graveyard! He's taller than Uncle Vernon, thin as a rail, and has big red eyes!" Harry returned.

"Jus… Just shut up. Shut up, you and get back to your room and stay there!" Aunt Petunia shrieked.

With a shake of his head Harry trotted up the stairs into his room. Once he closed the door and put Aunt Marge's shrieks behind him, he turned to see Professor McGonagall appraising him with merry eyes. "Professor! … Why did you want me to meet you out front if you could just Apparate to my room?"

"Simply because I did not want to attract your relatives' notice with the pop I produce when Apparating. With all of the commotion, I thought I could Apparate safely." She covered her mouth with a hand and laughed into it.

"I must say, I think that dog… Ripper is it? Looks much improved with his new coat," she finished through her chuckles.

Harry beamed at her. "That was brilliant!" Harry paused, then and looked at the door. "Umm, can they hear us now?"

"No, Harry. I cast a sound-proofing charm when I came in."

Hedwig hooted from her open cage, causing Harry to turn to her with a smile. "Did you see that, girl?" Hedwig hoped out of her cage and glided to Harry, who raised an arm for her to land on. "Professor McGonagall did a smashing job of teaching that awful Ripper a lesson. Ripper and Aunt Marge are the reason why you had to stay in the car all day yesterday. You'll have to look for him when you're out hunting, I won't have him coming in here." Harry said, petting her affectionately on her head.

Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry while he conversed with his owl. "Harry, I remember you did very well in Transfiguration last year. I hope you plan to apply yourself even more this coming year for your O.W.L.s." She finished with her chin up and appraised him carefully through her spectacles.

"Yes, Professor, I had already read the first chapter on Vanishing Charms this morning before I went to work in the garden." Harry replied with obvious pride.

"Excellent, Harry!" She sniffed momentarily and frowned. "Would you mind if I scourgify you? Then perhaps we can have lunch."

"Please, ma'am. Will Dobby be coming back?"

"Yes he will, Harry," she finished, brandishing her wand at him. With a flick of her wrist a spell shot at him, cleaning him from head to toe of all the sweat and dirt he'd accumulated in the flowerbed.

Harry smiled at her, obviously pleased. He watched as she produced what he now called her 'traveling bag,' and pulled the table from it before she conjured two chairs. At last she pulled the hand-bell out and rang it.

Dobby appeared with his customary pop. "Hello, Professor McGonagall, ma'am, Dobby is here to serve," he bowed before the professor. "Dobby is so very happy to see you and Mr. Harry Potter, sir." He straightened and beamed adoringly at Harry. "Dobby is so glad that Mr. Harry Potter is finding things to eat this summer."

Harry blinked. "Dobby, we will be needing some lunch. Would you please prepare my usual sandwich with a side of creamy mushroom soup and water?" McGonagall asked before turning an inquisitive eyebrow at Harry.

"Um, I'm glad I will have things to eat this summer too, Dobby. A turkey sandwich and water will be enough for me," Harry advanced. A loud snap of his fingers produced both meals on the table with a fine line of steam rising from the soup. Harry paused thoughtfully before hesitantly asking, "Would you like to join us for lunch, Dobby?" Harry looked questioningly at Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall smiled primly at the house-elf before compounding Harry's request, "I have no reservations against you joining us, Dobby." The house-elf in question looked absolutely flabbergasted.

"Oh, Harry Potter is so kind, so noble, so generous! Dobby is not worthy to eat at Harry Potter's table. Dobby has armor to be polishing and floors for scrubbing at Hogwarts," Dobby cried, bowing deeply while he scrubbed tears from his eyes. He stood up and disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

Professor McGonagall gazed at Harry with pride in her eyes. "That was a very nice thing to do, Harry. I will be leaving this bell in your possession for the rest of the summer. I think both you and Dobby could gain from each other's company. At the very least, you will be well fed," she finished with a smile.

Harry opened his mouth a second before he said, "Thank you, Professor!" Harry paused before finishing with a sigh, "… I wish I had this last year."

McGonagall nodded in agreement. They ate in silence. Professor McGonagall was lost in thought and Harry was loath to distract her. Harry finished first and patiently nursed his glass of water while Professor McGonagall finished her soup.

"Tell me, Harry," Professor McGonagall asked carefully, "Have you ever entertained the thought of becoming an Animagus?"

Harry spit out his water in shock. "What!"

"I know you are aware that your father as well as Sirius Black were both Animagi, and I thought you may have considered following in their footsteps," she continued.

"Well yeah, of course I have, but I promise I haven't actually done anything to become an Animagus! I don't even know where to start," Harry promised.

Professor McGonagall folded her hands and fixed him with a steady gaze as she addressed him. "I am glad to hear that, Mr. Potter, and given the events of last year, I believe you absolutely. However, I still think that you would begin this road yourself in coming years, if you find the opportunity… with or without supervision. I have brought with me the necessary instruments to determine whether or not you have the ability. If you do possess it, I will agree to guide you so long as you promise not to overstep or countermand my instruction."

Harry swallowed. Animagus training! From Professor McGonagall herself! Who was he to turn her down? "I'd love to, Professor! When can we start?"

"Right now, of course," was her answer. She lifted her wand from its place on the table and Vanished the empty dishes, glasses, and the tablecloth with a wave of her wand.

Harry looked at her curiously. "Where did you Vanish them to, Professor?"

"I am glad you remember your reading, Harry. I Vanished them to a certain cupboard in the Hogwarts kitchens where all the dirty dishes go before they are cleaned." She dug through her traveling bag once again and pulled out a large piece of parchment which she spread over the entire table. This was followed by a vial of a silvery liquid that looked very much like memories in a pensive, only thinner. Professor McGonagall smoothed out the parchment before dumping the vial's contents onto the center of the parchment. She re-corked the empty vial and stuffed it back into her bag.

"The first step towards becoming an Animagus is to discover if you can be one in the first place, and if you can, this will show what your form is." She gestured towards the table before lecturing on, "That was revelation pigment that I poured onto the parchment. There is a spell you may cast that will cause it to paint your form onto the parchment. It is perfectly legal and cannot be detected by the Improper Use of Magic Office because no magic actually leaves the union of your wand and body. All you must now do is clear your mind of everything but the incantation, '_Animalem Intimum Acclara'_ while holding the tip of your wand to your forehead. It shall record the animal you see in your mind's eye. Once you have completed the incantation, you will remove your wand and place the wand tip in the revelation pigment. Provided you have cast the spell correctly, your form will be painted on the parchment. If you cast the spell correctly the tip of your wand should glow a very light blue."

Harry blinked. "Err, should I try the spell now?"

"Yes, please do," McGonagall watched him expectantly. "Remember, pronounce the incantation very clearly, _An-Im-malem In-ti-mum Ac-Claraa_. Clear your mind and concentrate."

Harry did his best and several times images of a bird or snake flashed in his mind's eye. On the seventh try he saw both and finally the tip of his wand was illuminated. "Well done Harry, now dip it in the pigment," McGonagall instructed. Harry proceeded, and the feathery liquid ghosted out across the parchment before it settled into a writhing blob that began flashing colors before sinking into the parchment and leaving a framed moving picture in the center that was surrounded by a maelstrom of colors. At first the central picture showed a blue-gray bird of prey in mid-dive. The bird had startling blue eyes and was approximately 10 inches long. It flattened out into a glide over a field of grass before landing upon a branch in a lonely willow tree. After a moment, the image changed to a four foot long, white-skinned, blue-eyed snake in a blank background. Slowly the background changed to a dry desert plain. As the background changed so did the color of the snake's skin until it was difficult to see where the desert ended and the snake began. The background continued to change environments and the snake changed with them from the ground of a meadow to the inside of a manor house and on to others. It always changed to blend in perfectly.

Harry was flummoxed. "What does this mean, Professor? Which form is mine?"

McGonagall looked back at Harry with a mixture of amazement and pride. "Both are, Harry. I do not know what sort of bird the first one is, but the second is a chameleon snake. I will have to bring this to Hagrid for a more positive identification. Do you mind if I tell him about you? Professor Dumbledore will certainly need to know."

Harry bit his lip consideringly while he fought the last vestiges of his shock. "I don't mind if you tell Professor Dumbledore, but please don't tell Hagrid. He's one of my greatest friends, but sometimes he just can't keep his mouth shut," Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall nodded in understanding. She quickly wrapped up the parchment and slipped it back into her travel bag before rooting out some books. She continued to talk while she stuffed her bag. "I have never heard of a case where a person had two Animagus forms. Perhaps it's because of your scar? I will ask Professor Dumbledore. In any case, Harry," she lifted the books out of the bag and looked him straight in the eye while she set them down, "you will have to promise me that for every hour you prepare for your initial transformation you will spend at least one hour on your other summer assignments." She finished with her hands on her hips and shooting him a look that dared him to dispute her.

Harry stepped back from her gaze and paused a moment before answering. Professor McGonagall's gaze hardened and she opened her mouth before Harry hurriedly assured her, "Yes, I promise. I'll study my other subjects as much as I do the Animagus transformation until I've done all the assignments."

McGonagall looked mollified and touched the two books she had stacked upon the table. "Make sure to read _Your Magic and You_ first before _Finding the Animal Within_. When I return tomorrow I will bring you a few references pertaining to your forms. You had best have a few inches of my essay done by then as well."

Harry agreed reluctantly, "I'll try my best, Professor," he replied. "Isn't there anything I can do other than read to get ready?" Harry looked pleadingly up to his Transfiguration professor.

Professor McGonagall gave Harry a thoughtful glance. "You can try some of the demonstrations in _Your Magic and You_. Just be sure to do the ones where none of your magic leaves your body, else you might find yourself expelled. Under normal circumstances, I would not even bring this for you. However, Professor Dumbledore thinks it best that you are as prepared as possible to face any dangers that may come your way.. Again, remember that the Ministry will detect any magic that you allow to escape from your body and we suspect that they are eager to prosecute you. There now, that should certainly be enough to keep you busy for the time being."

It certainly was. After Professor McGonagall left, Harry immediately opened _Your Magic and You_ and began to read.

_The first question any intellectual wizard might ask before studying magic should be "What is magic?" This question could be quickly followed by "How do I use magic?" as well as "Where does it come from?"_

_The answer to these two of these questions can be made relatively simple. Magic is produced largely, perhaps entirely, within the centers of our bones. We control our magic through exercising our will upon it. The answer to the first question_,_ however_,_ is more complex. _

_There are several things that magic is. Everyone is a product of the magic within them as much as anything else. Magic is a force that_,_ if properly manipulated and directed_,_ makes your will reality. Our magic mirrors our emotions because in a sense it carries them. Our magic has memory for events that shape our character and forms also shape our magic. Magic is immortal. Anything done with it will stay so until it is changed or undone. These are some of the more obvious examples of what magic can be and can readily be seen by the most casual observer. There are whole bodies of magic that rely on careful manipulation of your magic to influence the above cases. _

_A few common techniques that require the intense study of your personal magic include occlumency, self-transfiguration, legilimency, the study and modification of the senses, magical displacement and amplification, and others. To begin to understand how to harness your magic you must…_

Harry was utterly enthralled. _This sort of education should be required for all Hogwarts students._ He continued to read the afternoon away and only paused when the front door crashed and a newly returned Dudley bellowed from the downstairs hall, "I'm hungry! Get me something to eat, Mum!"

Harry marked his place with a scrap of parchment and laid _Your Magic and You_down before standing up from his desk and stretching. After he cracked every bone in his back, he walked over to what had settled for his meal table the last few days and rang the hand-bell.

Dobby immediately appeared. "Harry Potter, sir! How can Dobby be helping Harry Potter?"

Harry smiled at the house-elf. "Dobby, I am sorry, but I think I will have to bother you for most of my meals this summer. I was wondering… would you like to join me sometimes when I eat?"

Dobby looked absolutely scandalized. His green tennis ball eyes stared abject horror at Harry. "Dobby couldn't … Dobby wouldn't… Dobby can't eat with Harry Potter. Bad Dobby! How can he even think himself worthy to eat at Harry Potter's table? Bad Dobby!" Dobby clutched a table leg in his thin hands and immediately started throwing his head against it. He hit the table so hard that it began to bounce. Harry was sure the racket could be heard loud and clear all the way in the living room, so he wasn't surprised when Aunt Petunia appeared in a huff shortly after Dobby started.

She stopped cold once she entered his room. "What the devil have you done?" she managed.

Harry shrugged before sitting. "One of the people watching me decided that my room was unacceptable and decided to remodel it. I told you they were watching me more closely this summer. I think they are very angry with you and are looking for a reason to do something." Harry looked at his aunt expectantly before turning to Dobby.

"Dobby, if it isn't too much trouble, do you think you could arrange my dinner now?" Harry asked, thinking of the most elaborate yet edible dish he could. At Dobby's assent Harry continued, "I think I would like some of the beef pot roast, the chicken caesar salad with the spicy croutons, a baked potato with everything on it, and a nice piece of the German chocolate cake with a scoop of non-melting vanilla ice cream for desert."

Dobby let go of the table leg and nodded dizzily at Harry. "Dobby will go fetch Harry Potter's dinner"; he took a woozy step before he disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

"Wha… you have a servant now? What is that thing?" Petunia goggled.

"He is a house-elf and his name is Dobby. A lot of wizards have them. Dead useful, saves them the trouble of cooking and cleaning and all that," Harry waved dismissively. "I suspect I won't be having any more meals with you this summer." Harry grinned inwardly.

His Aunt Petunia scowled before spitting, "At least we won't have you stealing from our table this summer!"

Dobby reappeared with a pop. "Food is ready Harry Potter. Dobby has it being kept warm in kitchen for when Harry Potter is ready to be eating," he told Harry in his squeaky voice.

Harry shot a smug look at his aunt. "Now would be perfect, Dobby."

With a snap of Dobby's fingers, the meal appeared. A small cloud of steam escaped the central black pot of the arrangement as Dobby revealed the perfectly cooked roast. Aunt Petunia's mouth dropped at the sight before she turned her suddenly malevolent eyes at Harry. "Snap of your fingers and there it is. Your kind have no respect for a good honest day's work! It's no wonder you freaks are always so vile, lazy and nasty!" She turned her back on Harry and marched out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Harry blinked then looked at Dobby. "How could she speak so of good Harry Potter? Dobby knows Harry is a good wizard!" Dobby stated with authority.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry colored under the praise. "Umm… Can I have some pumpkin juice, please?" With a snap of Dobby's fingers, a large goblet full of the orange liquid appeared.

"Dobby will be going now, unless Harry Potter is wanting something else?" Dobby asked.

Harry looked down at Dobby thoughtfully before replying, "If it's no trouble, can you please come back in thirty minutes to take the dirty dishes? I can't Vanish them to the kitchen yet."

Dobby bowed, "Dobby will be seeing you in thirty minutes then, Harry Potter." Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Harry ate in silence. His head felt crammed full of thoughts so that he didn't know what to think of next. He was going to learn how to become an Animagus! Likewise, he had a lot of homework to do, but it looked to be interesting. It would be great to know how to vanish things. He thought of Dobby and how well he had taken to freedom. He seemed so happy… so unlike Winky was last year.

Vernon pulled in the drive while Harry was finishing his cake and ice cream. The master of the Dursley household entered to shouts and exclamations. Harry couldn't hear exactly what was being said and didn't care. They wouldn't dare do anything to him now.

Harry made his way to bed shortly after Dobby cleaned away the dishes and packed up Harry's dirty laundry for washing at Hogwarts. He pulled out _Intermediate Transfiguration_ and read while the Dursley household slowly drifted through dinner and television before they finally went to sleep. Harry soon followed them, and, unlike last night, his dreams were anything but tame.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter : Dark Dreamin'

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews, for without their efforts, my work wouldn't be as great as it is.

For those who are curious, the latin translation for the revealing spell is: 

Animalem Intimum Acclara : Reveal the Animal within

translated by: Chloé

Note: Document Manager does not support the equal sign, so I will use colons instead.


	4. Chapter 3: Dark Dreamin

Chapter 3: Dark Dreamin'

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry woke late the next morning. His dreams had been dark and unsettled but his memory of them was elusive and faded from his grasp as he gathered his bearings amidst the sweaty tangle of his red sheets.

He rang Dobby for breakfast and ate alone. After a shower he dressed in a suit of some of Dudley's finer castaways. He settled down to studying Vanishing theory while he awaited the return of Professor McGonagall. He read all day, with a few Dursley distractions, and even made a start on the monster fifty-six inch essay. He had lunch with Dobby and moved on to Chapter 2 of _Your Magic and You_ which ended with exercises in breathing and concentration to aid him in feeling his magic. Harry called Dobby for dinner and afterwards coerced the house elf into a game of Muggle checkers. The elf obviously played to lose and positively delighted in kinging Harry's pieces. McGonagall never returned that day.

"Dobby, you know you're supposed to at least try to win!" Harry admonished, once Dobby's last black piece was captured.

"But Dobby did win, Harry Potter! None of his pieces is left!" Dobby gazed up at Harry worshipfully.

Harry rubbed his forehead and blinked at the house elf. "Dobby… I won. You see only my pieces are left. I'm red, you know," Harry replied, befuddled.

"When Harry Potter wins, Dobby does, too," the house elf replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

That shut Harry up. Harry was silent a moment while he considered Dobby's words. He supposed it was true in the grand scheme of things, but certainly not in checkers.

"Dobby has chores for doing back at Hogwarts, Harry Potter," the elf said, breaking Harry's silent musing. "I be seeing you tomorrow, Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Dobby, bright and early," Harry smiled at Dobby, who bowed, before disappearing with a pop.

Uncle Vernon returned home from work half an hour after Dobby disappeared. Harry wondered if he had started working late simply to try to avoid the strife that was ongoing at number four. Sure enough, as soon as Vernon walked into the door he was met with the deep burly shouts of his sister as she condemned Vernon's nasty little tosser of a nephew-in-law and the bitch he was married to. A loud slap interrupted Marge's ranting, which she followed up with a shrill shriek. "No matter what the miserable brat did, you're not to insult my wife!" The argument downstairs continued on as Harry smiled at a memory from earlier that day.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Aunt Marge had burst into his room right as he was mid-stroke writing a 'V' in his vanishing essay. His sudden jerk dashed a line of ink up through three lines of writing. "Petunia told me it was _your_ fault that Ripper's been deranged. How dare you infect him with your freakishness!" Thoroughly irritated, Harry put down his quill and stared at the window.

"It wasn't me!" he said in a tight voice.

"Oh yes it was, you lying filth!" A strong aroma of urine accompanied her as she walked up directly behind his chair and grabbed his ear. "How dare you! Get up!"

Wincing in pain as she pulled and pinched his ear, Harry stood quickly and tried to follow the tug on his ear. "Let go!" Harry shouted.

"No! I don't know why Vernon lets you get away with all your miserable failings but I won't! The correction officers at St. Brutus' must be far too lenient with the likes of you! I'll beat some much needed proper respect into you. You'll never _dare_ touch my Ripper ever again!" Marge tossed what looked to be a bullwhip on the carpet and pulled a roll of duct tape from a bulging pocket in her long skirt. She yanked on his ear, causing him to stumble after her towards the wardrobe.

"Aunt Petunia! Come up here now or something terrible will happen," Harry screamed as he fought against Marge's grip. There was no way Harry was going to let this go meekly. He didn't do anything to Ripper. Professor McGonagall was going to be coming back soon and Harry knew she wouldn't be pleased to find him covered in welts. After seeing what she did to Ripper, Harry would have loved to see what she could to Aunt Marge, but he didn't want to get the welts that would instigate his professor's retribution.

They struggled some more as Marge fumbled with the duct tape while keeping an iron-grip on Harry's ear. Meanwhile Petunia ran into the room and hastened to Marge's side. "Marge, dear, please! I told you there are people watching him. We'll be in terrible trouble if it's found out we're whipping the boy." Petunia grabbed Marge's arm and tried to pull her off Harry.

"Petunia, you're too soft on the boy; some proper disciplining is the answer here! By the time I'm done with him, he won't be off squealing until I'm long gone," Marge ranted, trying to heave Harry back against the wardrobe again. "If anyone gives you trouble, tell them I did it. If anyone is mad enough to chase me for administering some proper discipline, I'll loose the pack on them!" Marge shifted and pushed Petunia off her.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry intoned maliciously, "you remember what happened two summers ago. Something far worse will happen if she isn't stopped. Now." Harry struggled against Marge and managed to free himself, but she grabbed his forearm as he tried to jump away.

"Stay put, you hooligan!" Marge snarled as they wrestled.

"Marge! Stop! Please!" Petunia cried. "You don't know what you're doing!"

Finally Harry got in one sound knee to Marge's gut and she loosened her grip enough for him to twist away and jump to the hand bell.

An instant later Marge was on him again. She grabbed his arm and twisted him around to face her before she bunched her fist and punched Harry in the stomach causing him to wheeze. Petunia was standing right next to them, trying to find a way to separate them amidst their tangled limbs and the flailing, ringing, hand bell.

Dobby popped onto the scene with a happy smile that instantly turned sour. Marge landed another punch and Harry threw her off him after a hard knee to her crotch. Marge shrieked and Harry yelled, "Stay away from me!" Dobby glared at Marge, snapped his fingers, and Marge fell over unconscious.

Dobby glowered, "You will not harm Harry Potter!" He bounced on his feet and ran to Harry, intent on assuring Harry's well being. Aunt Petunia pointed at Dobby and shakily asked, "What did that thing do to Marge?"

It was Harry who replied, "I suspect she's only unconscious." He turned to Dobby. "Ugh… Dobby, do you know any healing spells?" Harry groaned in pain.

"Dobby knows. He is taking care of Harry Potter," the elf said as he examined Harry. Dobby snapped his fingers again and a warm soothing sensation spread over Harry's body and washed away his aches and pains.

Harry lay still a moment before stretching and with a groan stood up on his feet. "That was wonderful, Dobby, thank you." Harry grinned at the house elf. "You really are a hero." He knelt before the elf and pulled him into a tight hug.

Petunia meanwhile had started to drag Marge out of the room. Harry glowered at them over Dobby's shoulder. "Dobby, would you mind teaching that nasty woman a lesson for me? If you could just vanish all of her hair into the dustbin in the kitchen, and find the dog in this house – it should have curly hair – and turn it pink, I would very much appreciate it," Harry said in tones of ice.

Dobby's happy face twisted in momentary indecision before hardening in determination. "Dobby will do that sir, filthy Muggle won't get away with hurting Harry Potter!" Dobby marched over to Petunia and Marge and snapped his fingers again. Petunia shrieked as Marge's hair vanished and pulled even harder as she finally got the large woman out of Harry's room. Dobby followed in their wake and shortly thereafter a frightened yip could be heard from downstairs.

Dobby reappeared in Harry's room and asked if he wanted any lunch. "Yes, please, Dobby, a ham and cheese sandwich with some potato crisps and a glass of pumpkin juice would be grand," Harry replied. He didn't know what McGonagall would have done, but Dobby's revenge was more than good enough. When Dobby left Harry was in a good humor and enjoyed his lunch thoroughly before resuming his reading for the rest of the afternoon.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry's reminiscing was interrupted when Vernon crashed into his room. "How dare you do that to Marge," he growled. "Don't you think we'll just sit back and take that from you," Vernon finished with a glare.

Harry stared coolly at Vernon over the top of _Your Magic and You_ before replying, "Everything would be fine if Marge would just leave me alone. I don't go looking for her, you know… she comes for me."

Vernon snorted and glared at Harry, "First this happening with Ripper and now you've cursed Marge bald… You won't be convincing me that none of it was your fault, boy!" He smacked a fist into an open palm.

Harry laughed softly under his breath. "I didn't cast any of the magic that's on Ripper or Marge; it's been my watchers both times. They're watching right now, and if you try anything, you'll be lucky if they turn you into a pig!"

Vernon trembled as he quietly snarled, "I won't have you threatening me, boy… If your aunt were not so set thinking we'd be worse off with you gone, I'd have been rid of you long ago." He turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry returned to his book and tried to concentrate as he reread a section in chapter two about gaining awareness of the magic within. After reading through the theory once more and the primary example of how to achieve the awareness, Harry put the book down, and flopped onto, his bed and stretched. He really was getting tired of all this reading. It was exciting at first and so very interesting, but why did it have to be so much work?

A while later, Harry finally sat up and began the laborious task of quieting his mind. Unfortunately, it seemed as if it just wouldn't shut up because no matter how hard Harry tried, stray thoughts kept springing up before he could feel anything.

By the time Harry went to sleep the best he could accomplish was the feeling of a slight hum, and he wasn't even sure if it was due to his magic or the sound of the vacuum cleaner Aunt Petunia was using in the other rooms upstairs. It was just after ten o'clock that Harry finally gave up and went to sleep, his head throbbing from what he thought was his own exertion.

o –––––– o –––––– o

He sat in a grand chair within a very Muggle living room. There was a television set in the wall-side bookcase across from him. He himself sat immediately before a coffee table that was laden with an opaque decanter along with a few stray cups that were placed amongst a scattered pile of ancient looking magical tomes.

Beyond the table three men knelt. Harry recognized Lucius Malfoy but couldn't place one of the other two. Suddenly Harry spoke and the voice that issued from his mouth was not his own. "Do you know how this tragedy came to pass Lucius?" he said in a coldly malicious voice.

Lucius spoke quickly and deliberately, "My Lord, the Ministry is investigating the matter carefully. It seems someone impersonating Amelia Bones issued the order while she herself was at a meeting with some of her Aurors. Nobody who knew of the Order questioned it until after the deed had been done. Nobody knows who the impersonator was, Madam Bones does not know how it happened, and steps are being taken to assure that such a thing will not happen again. I felt your summons while they were still investigating, my Lord. I know no more," Lucius finished and licked his lips nervously.

Cold rage laced Harry's high voice as he turned to the other man he recognized. "Macnair, I have sent you to speak with the dementors on my behalf… why have they allowed such a thing to happen? They know what it means to cross me."

The man positively quailed under Harry's gaze before he replied haltingly, "The-They have n-n-nnot agreed to join us yet, Ma-Master. They fear the Mi-Ministry more than they do you. They s-s-say the Ministry has found someone who can kill them if they disobey. I d-ddon't know who o-orr how."

Harry's fingers dug into the cushions of the chair's arms. "The dementors will rue the day they crossed me. Lucius! You and Macnair shall learn of this magic that can destroy those whom should be my most faithful creatures. This shall now be your greatest priority. Our fallen will be avenged," Harry snarled.

Harry stood and walked before the third kneeling man. "Avery, what news do you have for me? I expect results soon, Avery, not more delays," Harry threatened with extreme menace.

"Ma-Master I have a plan to get it! It is guarded day and night, but I will have someone else fetch it. They know what I am, Master, they won't let me pass!" Avery chattered desperately.

"More delays and difficulties. You have some time yet, Avery, but not much," Harry intoned. "Lucius, Macnair, you may go and inform Severus to attend me in ten minutes time," Harry ordered, fixing his eyes on a quivering Avery.

Harry drew his wand and raised it towards Avery. "You dawdle doing what should be a very quick and easy task, Avery. I find myself thinking you need some proper encouragement," Harry hissed over the footfalls of the other two retreating Death Eaters. The man before him trembled violently. Harry swiped his wand down towards him and incanted, "_Crucio_!"

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry woke screaming. His scar burned and waves of pain pulsed through his body. The pain wouldn't stop; his scar was searing agony which dwarfed the pain that suffused his limbs. It was like the Cruciatus curse but different. His whole body was in pain, but while the Cruciatus curse felt as if his very bones were burning from the inside out, there was a certain liquid fluidness to this, as if liquid fire was burning through his veins, consuming him.

Harry's screams were not unnoticed. Vernon bellowed twice from the master bedroom for Harry to shut it before coming to investigate. Harry was oblivious to his irate uncle and continued to thrash upon his bed, screaming. Vernon undid the locks on Harry's door and burst into the room only to stop dead in shock.

Harry continued to writhe and suddenly flipped so that he caught sight of his Uncle Vernon's horrified stare. He couldn't see what so frightened his uncle. It didn't matter; the pain was all that mattered and it continued to tear through Harry. Slowly the pain began to lessen and Harry reached with a trembling hand for his scar.

Bang! A gun fired and Harry's breathe left him as he felt something powerful strike his stomach. He tried to gasp for air and his other hand flopped down to his belly. An expanding ring of pain bloomed from his belly, but not only that. Atop the pain he felt as if something were horribly wrong down there, something was missing. He vaguely noticed that his fingers were wet. Slowly pain and awareness fled and darkness fell upon him.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter : Interlude: The Day After

There will be a few interlude chapters scattered throughout the story where we will see events through other characters points of view.

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank themin your reviews, for without them, my work wouldn't be as great as it is.


	5. Chapter 4: Interlude: The Day After

Interlude: The Day After

o –––––– o –––––– o

"Oh Vernon, how could you?" Petunia moaned. She gazed, horrified, at the bloody mess that was her nephew's still body. "We're worse than dead now. They'll catch us, and when they do, we'll be lucky if they only kill us."

Vernon looked sick. "The damn boy's gone too far this time. I wasn't about to stand there and let him do his freakishness. He was glowing green, Petunia! He was damn well going to kill us himself, or do some sort of vile wickedness worse than he did to Marge two summers ago. He wasn't glowing when he did his abnormality on Marge. We've got to hide him!" Vernon started towards the bed.

Vernon was just passing a small gaming table that supported a hand bell on its edge when Petunia grabbed his arm and jerked him back. Vernon stumbled into the table and the bell fell unnoticed off the edge. "Vernon! They'll know! They probably know already! We've got to go as soon as you can get everyone up and in the car. They will be here any minute. Hurry!" Petunia pulled her slowwitted husband out of the room before rushing into Dudley's room.

The moment they closed they closed Harry's door behind them a pop sounded through it followed immediately by a squeaky voice exclaiming, "Oh no! Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is getting help; Harry Potter isn't to be moving sir!"

She shook him violently and yelled. "Get up, Dudley! Get dressed and run to the car! Hurry!"

"Shut up, Mum. Let me sleep," he yawned. "So Dad shot Harry, big deal." He tried to snuggle back into the depths of his covers.

Petunia wouldn't let up. "Dudley, you remember what I told you about the evil wizards last summer and why we have to keep my sister's freak? The Dark wizards are coming and they want to kill us! We've got to go!"

Dudley was up in an instant. "No! Save me! Mummy!" he whimpered as he grabbed her and attempted to push her between him and the door.

Petunia wrenched his hands off her and in her panic slapped him hard across the cheek. "Get off me, Dudley! Just run for the car now! If _they_ aren't here yet, they will be any second! Please, Dudley, go!"

Much to Petunia's relief, her slap shook her son out of his stupor. With uncharacteristic swiftness he jumped into his shoes and was right behind her down the stairs.

Marge was shouting at Vernon when she began down the stairs. Petunia screamed over her sister-in-law's shouts, "Vernon! Come down to the car this instant! _They_ will be here any second. Hurry!" She reached the bottom and shot into the kitchen to get her purse. On her way out, she ran into Dudley stomping his feet to settle them in his shoes. Vernon and Marge continued to scream at each other. "Vernon! If you're not down here and in the car in thirty seconds, Dudley and I are leaving you two behind!" She yelled hysterically up the stairs before stomping into some of her trainers and running out the door to the garage. Dudley was just climbing into one of the back seats as she got there. She punched a button to open the garage door and climbed into the driver's seat. She was backing the car out onto Privet Drive when Vernon came running out of the house. She stopped long enough for Vernon to climb in and she stomped on the gas and tore out of the driveway.

Dudley gasped and said in a shaky voice, "One of them just appeared on the front lawn! Aunt Marge… They're going to kill Aunt Marge!"

"Too late for that now, Dudley. We go back and we're dead, too! Blown up like Petunia's worthless sister and her scumbag husband." Vernon shot back to Dudley.

Petunia's thoughts raced as she drove. Her family was frightened to silence and didn't argue when Petunia announced that they would stay the rest of the night in a London motel. Her husband and son said nothing while she rattled out her plan. The first thing they had to do next morning was to take a trip to a clothing store. After they had suitable disguises, then it would be off to Heathrow and some place far, far away where _they_ won't find us. She tried to sound confident, and Petunia truly thought it was the best chance they had, but a sinking feeling in her chest told her that it might not be enough.

The drive into London was very subdued, with each Dursley lost in his or her own thoughts. Dudley nervously asked if his parents thought the freaks would catch them, but Vernon snarled at him to be quiet. Petunia was a quiet bundle of nerves and she twitched from time as her dread swelled, causing her to swerve erratically as she drove.

They finally pulled into a bed and breakfast called 'The Croyden Hotel' at three in the morning. Petunia parked the car and Vernon went to the front desk to arrange a room while she and Dudley waited nervously in the car watching shadows.

Liquid ice ran down Petunia's spine as she spotted a black cat entering a patch of lamp light directly in front of them. She watched it as it slowly walked down the concrete walk that buffered the hotel's rooms from the car park. It had crossed their path and Petunia's teeth chattered. It seemed eons later when Vernon came huffing up the walk to the car.

"Finally, Vernon. What took so long?" Petunia snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Bloody receptionist was in the back sleeping and wouldn't come out till she was awake and all dolled up, bloody tart. Now hurry up, let's get out of the car and try to get some sleep," Vernon grumped.

Petunia and Dudley exited and locked the car and followed Vernon up to a second story catwalk. He unlocked the door to suite twenty-six, which was right in the middle of the complex.

They rushed in and Vernon closed the door behind them. "Well, let's get some sleep, then. They won't be finding us anytime soon," Vernon said, as if to reassure himself.

"Vernon Dursley," a dry voice said from a dark corner of the room. They all started and stared as a wand-bearing man stepped into their view. He was dressed in navy robes and had short wiry hair.

Dudley rushed for the door, but the wizard waved his wand at it, causing it to lock with an ominous click. "I have the honor of being Auror Dawlish," the robed man said coolly. "You are all to be taken into the custody of the Ministry of Magic for questioning on the matter of Harry James Potter's murder."

Petunia paled and looked between Vernon and Dudley. They were trapped, this was the end, and she knew it. Auror Dawlish's approach was like looking at the Angel of Death to her. It was over and they were done for. Vernon charged the man and threw himself at him, only to be stopped in midair by a bolt of light from the man's wand. Would she live to have a normal life again? Light erupted from the wizard's wand and everything went black.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Daybreak found Molly Weasley bustling about the Burrow's kitchen fixing the normal breakfast spread for her horde. The crackling of frying bacon and the sizzling eggs soothed the Weasley matriarch and helped distract her from her laundry list of worries. Most of those worries were centered on a scrawny black-haired boy, who in her heart of hearts, was her seventh son. Molly was the compulsive worrywart and the last few weeks had poured buckets of grease on her worrying fire.

The return of You-Know-Who meant a great deal of danger to all the members of her family. They were all in danger, even poor Percy, though he would not acknowledge it, and the apprehension bound her heart with loose steel cords that were just waiting to be yanked. Thus she did what she could: she took care of her family and constantly fought to forget what could be.

Toast popped from her magical toaster and was spread with butter and marmalade before alighting upon a serving dish. She turned towards it with a bittersweet smile; breakfast was all cooked and ready to be eaten. With a wide sweep of her wand and a locomotive charm, all the food was floated to the table where it was joined with pitchers of milk and pumpkin juice.

Mrs. Weasley made her way to the bottom of the Burrow's stairs. "Breakfast is ready!" she shouted. She went back and sat at the foot of the table and fixed herself a meal.

She was nearly finished eating when the first one came down. Oddly enough, it was Ron, who on a normal summer day would be the last down by an hour or so. She looked at him critically, and after noticing his rumpled look and vein-streaked eyes, asked, "Sleep well, Ron, dear?"

"Mmmph, not really Mum. Slept poorly, actually," he sank down into a chair and began piling food on his plate. Nothing could kill Ronny's appetite. Fred came down next, shortly followed by George. They were as chipper as ever and wasted no time in filling up while exchanging a whispered dialogue she knew was trouble in the making.

Ginny was last down and slumped into her chair as the others were finishing up. Her long hair was a mess and she looked like she'd rather be in bed. "Morning, Mum," her youngest yawned.

"Good morning, Ginny, dear," she smiled in response.

It was Ginny who finally asked the question Molly had been waiting for. "Where's Dad? Did the Ministry call him to sort something out last night?" she inquired in a perfectly innocent voice.

Molly hadn't the heart to tell her children that in reality Arthur had been called out by the Order and that something had happened to Harry. She knew Ginny still had a soft spot in her heart for the bespectacled youth, and, with a moment and a little effort, she managed a credible lie. "Yes, dear, I believe it was something to do with out of control cars. Someone went and charmed them alive and couldn't stop them afterwards."

Ginny nodded and the rest of the boys were just filing out of the kitchen when the post arrived. Molly noticed a Special Edition of the Daily Prophet amongst the morning letters and quickly grabbed and unrolled it. She couldn't contain her gasp when she saw the front headline, 'Boy Who Lived Killed by Muggle Uncle!' Below the headline there was a photograph of Harry's pale corpse on its bed in the St. Mungo's morgue. The only thing that moved in the photograph was a wizard mortician at Harry's bedside.

Her horror hadn't gone unnoticed. Her concerned children all crowded around her and though she was too overwhelmed to take note of who was saying what, she was certain they wanted to know what was wrong. She clutched the paper to her chest and tried to control grief as she stood. Her attempt to keep this from her children was fruitless, however, as Ron grabbed the paper away from her and screeched as he saw the front cover.

"Ron! What is it?" Ginny demanded while the twins tried to read the paper over Ron's shoulder. Molly gave up and her tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "Oh, it's so terrible! Harry was killed last night by his uncle," Molly moaned, just as the twins caught sight of the headline.

"What! … No… no, no, no, no," Ginny quickly succumbed to tears herself while George grabbed the paper from Ron's shell-shocked hold and read it out loud.

"_Boy Who Lived Killed by Muggle Uncle, writes Lorraine Ackles, Special Correspondent. Late last night Aurors responded to reports of a Dark Mark in the Muggle community of Little Whinging, Surrey. The mark itself was reported as being above the Dursley residence at #4 Privet Drive, where our young hero made his home. Therein they found, much to their horror, the body of a large Muggle woman that has been identified as Marjorie Dursley, the victim of a killing curse, and the body of Harry Potter, who had been slain by use of a Muggle gun. _

_ Aurors pieced together that the rest of the Dursley family had fled the scene after killing young Harry. They were apprehended later that night in a Muggle complex in the south of London and, under questioning, admitted to killing him. 'The bloody thing woke us screaming in the middle of the night,' Vernon Dursley said during his questioning, 'I told him to shut his trap, but he kept screaming and clutching that dratted scar of his. After all he's done to us, it was the last straw. He was glowing green then, and I knew he was going to do something freakish, so I got the gun and shut him up.'_

_ After extensive questioning, Vernon Dursley revealed that his family systematically abused, starved, and derided our young prodigy in the hopes of beating the magic out of him. It has become clear to the authorities and this reporter that Harry Potter was no more than a house elf who finally outlived his usefulness to these terrible Muggles. For complete details, please refer to the Home Life of Harry Potter on page 5._

_ One might wonder why our young hero had to endure such terrible guardians for the entirety of his childhood. We all remember that it was the distinguished Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, who had him put there in the first place. Questions have been raised about the Headmaster's initial involvement and subsequent aversion to the subject of Harry Potter's safety and well being. Requests for correspondence with Albus Dumbledore have been unanswered at the time of this printing. This writer hopes that the Headmaster's actions are considered by the Wizengamot in conjuncture with the Dursley case."_

The paper dropped from George's fingers as he trailed off. Ginny sobbed quietly into her hands at the table. Ron finally broke out of his stupor and angry tears poured down his cheeks. "I hope they rot in Azkaban for the rest of their lives! I hope his uncle gets the Dementor's kiss! You remember the bars on his window, Fred, George; it was like he was in prison there!" Ron ranted.

Fred, who was scowling fiercely, said, "If I ever get the chance, I'll feed that pig Dudley something he'll never forget!" George nodded a furious affirmative.

Ron moved back to the table and sat crying, with his head in his hands. "How in the world am I going to tell Hermione!" He breathed in a loud, painful, breath. "Dead, Harry's dead. What now? What next? I hate them!"

Ginny finally made her way into Molly's embrace and continued to cry. "There, there dear… everything will be alright," she tried to soothe. How everything was going to be alright, Molly did not know. In a world where the Headmaster could fail so spectacularly; with murdering Muggles, Harry dead, and Voldemort returned; Molly Weasley did not know where to look for hope and all she felt at the moment was utter sadness and heart-wrenching despair.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Lord Voldemort threw his copy of the Daily Prophet down onto a rich oak table in his London headquarters. He looked to his faithful and with amusement asked, "It is ironic that one of my most elusive adversaries would die such a death. Tell me what happened when you went to the Potter house, Nott."

A tall stringy man knelt before Voldemort and reported, "I was watching Potter's place as you had ordered, my Lord. It was nearing midnight when the boy started to scream. He screamed for approximately five minutes before I heard a bang; it sounded similar to a potion explosion. I still am not sure what it was. There was more screaming then, my Lord, and three of the vile Muggles ran out of the house and jumped into one of their cars and sped off. It was another seven to ten minutes before the wards collapsed and I entered their home. I immediately went to the boy's bedroom and opened the door to find him lying dead on his bed with Malfoy's freed house elf sobbing all over him. He looked dead. His stomach was a bloody mess and had a large hole in it. I cast the Accipio Animus spell on him just to be sure, and made to remove the body, as I knew you would want it, my Lord. The house elf stopped me and told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to touch 'Harry Potter sir' so he could be properly buried. I tried to stun the elf but it evaded and blasted me into a wall. I knew the old fool would be there any minute and that any fighting that occurred would only draw him and the Aurors faster.

I was about to leave when another Muggle looked in and saw me and the boy. I asked her what happened to the Potter whelp. She said she did not know but I could see in her eyes that she did. I cursed her with _Crucio_ and then asked her again before she admitted that 'Vernon killed the Potter freak,' her words. She became an annoyance so I killed her, shot up the Dark Mark and left."

A smile graced Lord Voldemort's serpentine face and he leaned back in his chair. "You have done well, Nott. You were right to leave when you did. It is certain now that the boy is indeed dead." He stood and walked to a large window. He surreptitiously drew his wand and caressed it before him. "Though I desired the pleasure, it does not matter that I did not kill the boy myself. However fortuitous the boy's death may be, it changes nothing. Avery, your task remains, as do all of your tasks. Nott shall be rewarded for service well done. The rest of you may go." Voldemort dismissed them.

The others shot jealous stares at Nott as they exited, while Nott himself was flushed with expectation. It had been over thirteen years since anyone had earned a reward, and with the death of his adversary, Voldemort was in the perfect mood to bestow one. The departed members of his inner circle should still be pleased, he thought; for once, one of their meetings did not end in shrieks of pain.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter: The Headmaster and Aileen Coine

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews. Without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.


	6. Chapter 5: The Headmaster and Aileen Coi...

Chapter 5: The Headmaster and Aileen Coine

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry Potter opened his bleary eyes to find himself covered in cotton blue blankets in a medium sized bed. He raised a hand to wipe his eyes and froze. Memories of the night before flashed through him and he tentatively moved his trembling hands to his stomach and softly touched it to find smooth skin above his very tender belly.

"You are 'ealed from ze gunshot," said a deep womanly voice. Harry looked up towards the voice and found he was in a nice looking room with a barely middle-aged woman who was waiting on him.

"How…Where am I? I'm not dead, am I?" Harry tried to sit up but fell back with a groan as a rush of pain surged through his stomach. "Ugh." The arrows of pain faded slowly as he tentatively rubbed his stomach.

"You are at 'ogwartz. Zis is Professor Dumbly-dorr's guest chamber. 'e rescued you from ze Dursleys' 'ouse," the woman said soothingly as she took a seat before him and reached to take his hand. "Ze stomach will be sore as it 'eals. You are not to leave ze bed for three days and you will 'urt for at least a week."

Harry tried to nod but ended up whimpering in pain instead. "I 'ave restoring potions for you. You must be drinking zem once a day for ze next week," the woman counseled. She leaned over him and placed a hand on his forehead and Harry felt a very faint pulse of what could only be magic surge through her hand and into him. He looked up at her curiously. "You are 'ot but not fevered." She withdrew her hand and stood looking down at him. She produced a potion vial from a pocket in her elegant blue robes and offered it to him.

Harry took the vial from her and looked up at her speculatively. "Why are you treating me instead of Madam Pomfrey? Who are you, anyway?"

"Ze Weezarding papers say zat you are dead." She pursed her lips and regarded him pityingly, "I sink only Professor Dumbly-dorr and I know zat you live. I am not sure what Dumbly-dorr 'as planned next. As for who I am… my name is Aileen Coine. I am employed at Beauxbatons as ze Mediwitch zair." She folded her hands expectantly in her lap.

Harry grunted an acknowledgement. "Is Professor Dumbledore here? Did they catch the Dursleys?"

The woman smiled, and distracted though he was, Harry noted that she was quite pretty. "Professor Dumbly-dorr is out. 'e will be back soon, I zink. Ze Dursleys were caught by Aurors. You need more sleep if you are to 'eal well. Drink zis dreamless sleep, 'Arry. I promise ze 'eadmaster will speak with you soon."

Harry thought over Madame Coine's words as she lifted a black leather bag into her lap and sifted through it. His eyes widened and he gasped, "Ron and Hermione! You said everyone thinks I'm dead, but they have to know! Is Hedwig here?" He had to owl the Weasleys; Ron really _would_ kill him if Harry didn't tell him right away. Harry struggled once more to rise, but Aileen's spell petrified him as his head left the pillow.

She levitated him back to the center of the bed before she spoke again, "'Arry, you must calm yourself. Your friends will not be 'appy if you 'urt yourself more. Now I will let you move again, and you must stay still, drink ze potion, and rest until ze 'ealing in your stomach is complete." She lifted the spell but kept her wand trained on him as she handed him the potion.

Harry let his head sink into the pillow and frowned up at the French mediwitch. Aileen spoke again, "Ze 'eadmaster will do what iz needing to be done. Drink zee potion and we can talk more when you are better. I zink you will be able to leave your bed in ze morning. It is nine in ze evening now."

Finally, Harry took the potion and drank it and, despite the turmoil of his thoughts, he succumbed once more to sleep.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry's sleep that night was deep and troubled. He could hear voices. A dull thrum like a beating drum echoed in his head and dwarfed the distinct sound of Voldemort's laughter. There was another voice as well, though. This voice was muffled and he could not hear precisely what it said. The tone was loving and earnest; he thought it was a girl. Harry trembled as he slept and the voices did battle inside his head, one haunting and the other soothing. Despite his struggles, he could not wake while under the potions' power. Luckily for Harry, Voldemort's laughter soon faded to nothing and the other voice gained strength. He still could not make out words but he managed to sleep through the rest of the night while peacefully listening to the woman's indistinct song.

Many hours later, Harry opened his bleary eyes and spotted Fawkes sitting on his perch just to the right of Harry's bed. Harry smiled weakly and greeted the magnificent bird. "Hello, Fawkes, it's nice to see you again. Has Dumbledore kicked you out of his office?"

Fawkes trilled softly in amusement and looked at him with startling compassion. The bird hopped off his perch and glided the short distance down to the bed. The phoenix landed near Harry's hand and he softly stroked Fawkes' crest. As he petted the bird, a sense of warmth and well being spread through him. Fawkes made a distinct humming noise and twisted his head harder into Harry's hand. A gentle cough broke the moment and Harry jerked his head to look at the far door where the Headmaster stood.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore smiled benignly. He moved Aileen's chair so it was next to the perch and sat. "I must say, these last few days have been most eventful. Professor McGonagall has kept me informed and I am very sorry that things worked out the way they did with your relatives."

"Err.. Hello, Headmaster… they were just being normal." Harry fell silent for a moment. He remembered last year. Several times his scar had hurt, and the things he'd dreamed when that happened were always important. "Has Voldemort been up to something? I've been feeling him in my head a lot lately. I saw him in my dreams two nights ago. He was very angry, and then last night I heard him laughing. I don't know if it was real though, because my scar wasn't hurting when I woke up. Do you think I heard him? I did drink a dreamless sleep potion that," (who was that lady again?) "that Madame Coine gave me," he finished uncertainly.

"Ah, Madame Coine is a good friend of mine and was a very dear friend of your parents. Had it not been for Alice Longbottom, she likely would have been your godmother. As for Voldemort, dreams are uncertain things, Harry. I can only offer you my own speculation. I suspect that he was pleased to hear of your death last night. As for the night before last, he was likely unhappy because all of his followers in Azkaban were destroyed by the dementors." The Headmaster's eyes twinkled brightly as he finished. "Did you dream anything else, Harry? Or can you elaborate more on what occurred in these dreams?" Dumbledore looked at Harry with raised eyebrows and waited as the boy fidgeted.

"Well, last night all I heard was him laughing. I couldn't see anything, but I am pretty sure he was happy. I think the dreamless sleep potion made it so I couldn't see him. Umm," Harry paused, "The night before I could see that he was in a Muggle house. There were lights and a telly. Mr. Malfoy, Macnair, and Avery were with him. Mr. Malfoy told him that someone called Bones had ordered something done that they didn't like. No, that's not right… Someone who was impersonating Bones did it."

Harry continued, "Macnair had been to the dementors to get them to join Voldemort but they were afraid of the ministry. There is someone in the ministry who can kill dementors. Isn't that supposed to be impossible, sir?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment before he asked, "Did they say anything else about these destroyed dementors, Harry?"

"Only that they don't know who did it or how it was done. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Macnair are supposed to find that out so Voldemort can kill them, too. Well?" Gritting his teeth, Harry sat up in his bed.

"I am afraid I do not have the answer this time, my boy, but I will endeavor to find them. When I do know, I promise to tell you," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully.

"Well, then Avery got tortured for not getting past a guard to get something for Voldemort. Avery said he had a plan to get it… Do you know what he is after, sir?" Harry finished.

"Yes I do, Harry, and he shall not have it," Dumbledore assured him.

"Can you tell me what it is?" Harry pressed.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. A silence stretched during which Dumbledore ran a hand over his face before gripping his bearded chin and lowered his eyes to gaze sharply at Harry. Harry opened his mouth to tell him it was alright but Dumbledore forestalled him. "At the end of your first year we had a talk much like we are having now. In the Hospital Wing you asked me a question, one that I was hesitant to answer. You wanted to know why Voldemort tried to kill you when you were only a child."

Harry nodded and gripped his blanket hard. "Yes… you said I'd know when I was ready…" Harry's eyes narrowed in anger and he snarled, "Well, he's back now and he wants to kill me more than ever! So when am I going to be ready, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's eyes dimmed with sorrow and he was silent for a moment before replying, "I have been making life-changing decisions for you for quite some time, Harry. You may rest assured that while not all of them have been pleasant, I have always had your best interests at heart. You do deserve to know this. You deserved to know in your first year and you deserve to know now. But be warned, the burden of this knowledge will prove to be both heavy and cruel. I could not find it in me to be so heartless as to burden you with it then and hesitate to do so now. However, I find I must give you the choice. Are you sure you want to know this, dear boy?"

A sudden spark of rebellion ignited in Harry's gut and he impulsively replied, "Yes, I am sure! He's been after me for all my life. I mean, why me? My best interests at heart? Ha! How can you say that then send me to the Dursleys?" His voice trembled. "They hate me! They've always hated me and starved me and tormented me!"

"I sent you there to keep you safe," Dumbledore began.

"Yeah! And they almost killed me two nights ago!" Harry interrupted.

"Nevertheless, Harry, you were safer there than you could have been anywhere else in the world. I knew when I placed you there that you would not be well received. I would not have done it if it were not for the peril you faced after Voldemort's attack. Although you had just vanquished Voldemort, his servants remained, and many of them are almost as terrible as their master. They were desperate and angry. I am aware that you know what befell Neville and his parents shortly after Voldemort's first collapse. I feared that if I placed you with elsewhere, such as with a wizarding family that could have loved you, the same or worse could very likely happen to you. I knew the Longbottoms were a desperate lead for the Death Eaters, and that Voldemort's followers would, and likely did, pursue you even more vigor than they did Neville's family.

"When your mother died to protect you, her love and magic formed a bond with your blood which protected you against Voldemort's curse. That bond lives on within you and I believe shall do so until your dying day. It was this that I trusted to keep you safe. When she accepted you into her home, your Aunt sealed a most ancient and powerful spell. While you and Petunia are both within the same residence and you both can call it home, no one can use magic effectively with intent to harm either you.

"And so you dwelled there, and though you were not happy, you were alive and safe. Four years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, and you looked neither as happy nor well nourished as I would have liked, but you were alive and as normal a boy as I could hope for under the circumstances. You remember the events of your first year as well as I. You found yourself face to face with Voldemort again and you not only survived but you triumphed over him again. You fought a man's fight and I cannot express the pride I felt for you.

"So despite my best efforts you found yourself confronting him yet again before you were ready. I comforted myself with the thought that perhaps it was a one time aberration, surely Voldemort would find himself unable to reach you again while you were here. The wards would protect you… I would protect you. But it didn't happen that way, did it?"

Harry nodded impatiently, "No, you didn't. A basilisk under Voldemort's control had the run of the school for the whole second year. And Crouch was under your nose all of last year, too!" Harry snapped.

Dumbledore sighed, "And so I learned that Hogwarts was not and could not be made safe for you. In order for you to safely become ready, you could not be Harry Potter. I arranged for you to die and yet live on in secret. That is why you are here now. I had a … clone… ready and when Dobby came to me saying that you had been shot, I recognized immediately that this was likely a more believable situation than any I could ever hope to engineer myself. I went to Privet Drive immediately and swapped you for the clone. I did what I could for you and summoned Madame Coine. Since Harry Potter cannot safely learn magic at Hogwarts, then perhaps someone else can safely learn magic at another magical learning institution. I dare not have you return here for fear of discovery, and Durmstrang would prove perilous as well. Madame Coine can be trusted, and I think Beauxbatons may offer you the best chance you have to live not only the best life you can, but the longest."

The shock at the very idea of leave Hogwarts, his home, left Harry stunned. "What! You must be mad. I don't know any French; I'd stick out there like a sore thumb. Also what about Ron and Hermione? I can't just leave without a word to them. What about the rest of the Weasleys? And Sirius!" Harry's voice and temper rose as he ranted.

Dumbledore didn't respond immediately. He gazed down at his lap for a long moment before he lifted his chin and regarded Harry with moist eyes. "I am so very sorry, Harry. I know you will miss your friends terribly, but you cannot deny that they will be safer if Harry Potter was not around to attract trouble. I know that you have had a very lonely life – in my own way, I have lived one as well. I do not want that for you and we both know that to most, Harry Potter is more a legend than person; and in your heart you know that Ron and Hermione would want you to live as happily as possible. Perhaps one day you will be able to reveal yourself to them, but sadly that day cannot be anytime soon."

Harry glared at his old mentor. "You really are a piece of work. Why can't we tell my friends that I'm still alive? They'll keep quiet and you know it! Besides, how can I be happy without my friends?"

"I doubt that they would betray you through word of mouth, but Voldemort's followers will be watching them and your friends likely would betray you through the way they express their grief and also to any who would seek to examine their minds." Dumbledore took a deep breath, "As for your happiness, I have no doubt that initially this will be very hard for you. You will start out alone, and keeping your new identity will be a burden that you will have to bear. However, you will meet new people, and you will make new friends when you start at Beauxbatons. I have lived a very long time, Harry, I ask you to please have some confidence in my experience."

Anger and fear still gripped Harry's heart but he could think if no other arguments that might sway Dumbledore. With that realization, despair started to swell and all Harry could think to ask was, "Why me? Out of everyone out there, why did Voldemort have to have a vendetta against me?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly at Harry. "I have long dreaded this day, that I would reveal to you a fate that I would wish on no man, much less a child." He paused. "The reason why Voldemort has been trying to kill you since before you were born was due to a prophecy that was made about you and him. Voldemort has not heard the complete contents of the prophecy, but he knows that you have the power to destroy him. To his cost, he thought that by killing you as a child he could fulfill the terms of the prophecy in his favor long before you would have any chance of maturing into a threat.

"There are a few things that I can surmise Voldemort will tend to now that he is reborn. He certainly wanted to kill you, both to prove his power to his followers after you embarrassed him during the third task and to destroy that which he suspects to be a mortal threat. He undoubtedly wishes to know the rest of the prophecy, and that is where Avery comes in. Within the Ministry of Magic there is a place called the Hall of Prophecy. There is a recording of this prophecy among the collection gathered there. My protections aren't the only ones that guard it. There are others he cannot hope to break without risking revealing himself to the wizarding world, which I do not think he will do. I believe Voldemort is unaware of the other safeguards that are in place and believes that Avery can retrieve the prophecy for him. He cannot. I have nothing more to tell you about the prophecy for the time being. You are not ready to know more."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but the Headmaster shot a sharp quelling look his way and Harry closed his mouth.

Dumbledore changed the subject. "What we must now decide is what you shall do this summer, now that you are conveniently dead, and the Dursleys are under arrest."

Harry snorted. "I hope the Dursleys rot. I don't want anything to do with them ever again. You must have some sort of plan; you're the great manipulator, after all. Well? Let's hear it, then."

"Indeed I do, but I thought I would let you have the first word," Dumbledore chided. "There are a few things you must learn as soon as possible. The most pressing matter is your mastery of a skill called Occlumency. Occlumency is the art of screening the mind by manipulating the memory of your magic. If you can successfully put this into practice, you will find yourself less prone to receiving visions from Voldemort and he will hopefully overlook the link that exists between you. This is key to ensuring that Voldemort does not discover that you are still alive, Harry, and is very important. You will have to try very hard to learn this or our hopes for you living a normal life will fail and he will be after you again. The most important things you can do for now are to try to remain as calm as possible, read the book _Your Magic and You_ that Professor McGonagall left you, and practice the exercises therein."

Harry nodded. "Alright, I'll work on that. But where am I going to stay for the rest of the summer? I can't and won't go back to the Dursleys and the Burrow is out. You don't want me to stay here, do you?"

Dumbledore smiled indulgently and replied, "I am investigating a few possible solutions. As of now I am inclined to have you stay with Madame Coine. Would you find that agreeable, Harry?"

"She seems nice… and I could ask her about my parents. What about Sirius and Remus? Are you sure they can't be told? They're adults; can't I stay with them?" Harry pleaded.

The Headmaster sighed regretfully, "Alas, I am afraid they cannot be informed of your survival, Harry. Sirius is being hunted by far too many people for us to risk him knowing. Should he be captured, then your secret will surely be revealed. Both Sirius and Remus are too closely watched. I am sorry, Harry."

Disappointed, Harry nodded.

"For now, you will have to remain here. I admit it may feel confining, but there is little to be done until a more ideal solution can be found and made ready."

Harry grunted and muttered, "Still better than the Dursleys, at least."

Dumbledore smiled ruefully and changed the subject once again. "There is one thing I wish to do before I leave you this morning, Harry. Please give me your hand."

Harry looked at Dumbledore uncertainly and slowly raised his arm off the bed and extended his hand towards the ancient mage.

Dumbledore took Harry's hand between both his and looked reassuringly at the youth. "I will only wish to… feel… your magic, Harry. I promise that it shall not hurt, and we both stand to learn a great deal from it."

Harry nodded again. Dumbledore smiled, opened Harry's hand, palm up, and lightly touched his fingertips to Harry's palm.

Dumbledore's hand began to glow as he stroked Harry's palm. A vibrating weight pressed into Harry's hand, causing it to shake. There was a sudden wrenching sensation and a feeling of intense warmth and comfort invaded Harry's hand. It felt as if liquid sunlight coursed through his veins making Harry shudder and gasp at the sensation. Harry's hand was literally glowing now and the feeling and light slowly crept up his arm.

"Headmaster!" Harry gasped.

The Headmaster smiled encouragingly and replied in a distant voice, "It's alright, Harry."

The glow had spread into his shoulder now and slowly it made its way to Harry's heart. Harry felt as if he had been stabbed, not with pain, but with pleasure and light so intense it almost hurt. A moment later the feeling of warmth exploded to the rest of his body. Harry lay there shivering and gazed up at Dumbledore with watery eyes. The Headmaster was smiling broadly, not at Harry but at something beyond him. He continued to slowly rub his fingers against Harry's palm and his touch seemed to form waves out of the liquid light that was permeating him.

Less than a minute later, though it seemed like hours to Harry, Dumbledore lifted his hand from Harry's palm and the light faded. Harry lay there and shivered with loss for minutes more while the Headmaster waited for him to regain his wits. Finally Harry asked in a shaking voice, "What w-was t-that?"

"I examined your magic, Harry. What you felt was my own magic flowing through you as I examined your magic. There are many things about yourself that you have yet to discover. I believe I may have found the perfect means of disguise for you, Harry. You have the aptitude to develop into a Metamorphmagus, a wizard who can change his appearance at will once he is properly trained. Hopefully by this summer's end, you will be able to affect enough of a change that you will not be recognizable as Harry Potter."

The Headmaster was grinning maniacally at him.

"Err… right" Harry said.

"Harry, if you prove talented enough – which I am sure you will – you will find you can squint your eyes and change yourself into a perfect clone of anyone you choose, and no magic eye will be able to tell the difference. Only an examination of your magic could reveal you. This really is most wonderful."

Harry nodded. "Well then…"

"Yes, yes, I need to be seeing to several things, not the least of which being what options I can find for you." The Headmaster turned to his phoenix. "Fawkes, would you mind keeping Harry company? I will be in and out of the office for the rest of the day, Harry. Fawkes can reach me if you find yourself in need of anything."

Harry looked dazedly at the old man as the Headmaster rose from his chair and walked out of the doorway which promptly disappeared behind him.

Harry was still for a few moments. This was all too much. Dumbledore had dropped bombshell after bombshell on Harry, and it would take him time to process them. Harry shook his head and looked at Fawkes. "Where did you find that guy, Fawkes?" The phoenix sang a soft song of amusement and Harry chuckled before he reached for the book on his nightstand. He stopped short and clenched his jaw in pain; stretching so far hurt. "Fawkes, do you think you could fetch that book for me?"

The phoenix obliged but when he opened the book, Harry found he had little will to read it. He had far too many thoughts buzzing around his head for him to concentrate much on anything. He put the book down beside him and lay back in the bed lost in thought. After a few minutes passed he softly said to himself, "Well, at least I'm not spending summer at the Dursleys." If there was one bright spot to be had amidst all the heartache that the day's revelations had brought, it would be that.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter: New Beginnings

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews. Without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.


	7. Chapter 6: New Beginnings

Chapter 6: New Beginnings

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry spent the rest of the morning and afternoon brooding over everything Dumbledore had told him. Despite the Headmaster's admonishment to remain calm, Harry found himself consumed by an angry helpless feeling. He tried his best to come up with a good argument for allowing his friends to know about him, he tried to come up with ways to keep himself safe at Hogwarts, and he thought of ways to spoil Dumbledore's plans all together. He pondered and glowered all the more when it came to him that most of the reasons he could present to Dumbledore boiled down to one simple truth: it just wasn't fair. Fair play was important to Harry, but he wasn't naïve enough to think it would make much of an argument.

It wasn't until after he ate dinner that Harry finally stopped brooding and picked up _Your Magic and You_ again. Unsurprisingly, Dobby had come with his meal, as well as word that he had the honor of being the only house elf to know that Mister Harry Potter sir was alive and well. He wasn't in a mood to entertain Dobby and sent him off with the excuse that he was busy and wanted to read. Harry did feel momentarily bad for sending Dobby off like that and thought the least he could do was be honest both with himself as well as with the elf. He picked up the book again and flipped to the chapter on Occlumency while he munched on a sandwich.

_Chapter 6: Occlumency_

_Occlumency is a term to refer to the study of internal magics that deal with the mind and memory. There are several distinct magical disciplines that fall under the Occlumency category. Be warned that study of any of the branches of Occlumency is dangerous and should be done with extreme care and in a stress-free environment. _

_The most basic form of Occlumency concerns the modification of magical memory. Whenever you, a witch or wizard, experiences something in life it is remembered in your body, mind, and in your magic. Body and mind are obvious: if you trip and skin your knee you can remember that you skinned a knee in your mind and your body feels it at your knee. With magic there are few obvious manifestation of memory. One broad example of magical memory is the ability all witches and wizards have to adapt to magic cast upon them. The more you are hit with a stunning 'stupefy' curse, the harder it is to keep you down. _

_Any and all events that occur during your life are imprinted in your magic. Since magic is infinitely malleable and is formed by the mind, you can control what your magic remembers. While a complete modification of your magical memory is impractical, it is often useful to remove or change certain magical memories to misdirect anyone who manages to snoop in them. Also if you have the means to display a memory through a pensieve, or any other magical device or spell, it is the magical memory that is displayed rather than the memory kept in either your mind or body. _

_The basic technique to modify a memory is done in the following steps. First, you must clear your mind of everything but the memory to be modified, created, or removed, and concentrate on the thought. Stray thoughts can lead to stray memories floating around in your magic that may unduly influence yourself. For example, while creating a memory a floating rubber duck for the viewing pleasure of a friendly legilimens, you have sudden thought about how silly it would be for a duck to drown in water. Later you may set something on fire and when you try an aquaious spell to put the fire out, your wand shoots sparks rather than water._

_The second step depends on what you want to do. Should you wish to create an entirely new memory, you merely stamp the thought into your magic through your mind's eye. Should you wish to remove or modify a magical memory, you must will your magic to move itself so the imprint of the exact memory that you have in mind is entirely within your mind's eye. Remember that concentrating on something is different than viewing it through your magic. You can concentrate on the bull's eye of a target and throw a dart at it while not viewing it through your mind's eye. A skilled Seer can concentrate on the bull's eye through his or her inner eye and tell you whether you will hit the bull's eye or not._

_Once you have the memory in your mind's eye, you must pull it into your mind. You may then focus on another memory, should you wish to replace it. The best modifications contain as much detail as possible._

_There are many different techniques for every aspect of memory modification, from concentrating on a specific memory to be created, to fetching the memory to your mind's eye, as well as pulling it out._

_Another branch of Occlumency is concerned with keeping outside influences from touching your magic and keeping your magic from exerting any influence on persons or objects outside of yourself. It is called 'building the shield' and the practice is just as the name implies; you create a shield over your magic with your magic that will detect, stop, or even do injury to the wielder of any foreign mental magic that comes into contact with you._

_There are many other branches of Occlumency that this book will not mention nor describe because they are used to influence the user's magic and can be quite disastrous to even the most careful and well intentioned wizard._

_A more detailed explanation of memory modification tells you… _

Harry struggled to read through the rest of the chapter in silence before he fruitlessly attempted some of the exercises meant for clearing and concentrating his mind. He was still a bit upset about what Dumbledore had said earlier, and despite a few frustrated efforts, he couldn't find the calm stillness that the book described. He simply couldn't stop himself from thinking; he couldn't stop himself from feeling.

His first failures frustrated Harry. He tried to imagine flames consuming his thoughts and feelings; he tried to imagine crumbling them up and tossing them in the bin. There were several recommended exercises and none of them seemed to work. This was supposed to be an entirely mental exercise, and Harry found it odd that the more he tried and failed, the wearier he became. Harry tried exercise after exercise for two hours before the exhaustion became too much and he gave up in favor of sleep.

o –––––– o –––––– o

A ray of sunlight shining through a curtained window woke him early the following morning. Harry yawned and stretched before lifting his head and gazing around the room. Fawkes' perch had been moved out with the bird himself yesterday, shortly after Dumbledore had left, so Harry was surprised to find a new perch, with familiar occupant, standing where the old one had been.

Hedwig hooted cheerfully at him and jumped off the perch to glide towards him in a manner that demanded he extend his arm for her to perch. After she settled herself and Harry began to fondly stroke her head, the bird turned and caught his finger in her beak.

"Hedwig! I thought I would never see you again." Harry smiled. Hedwig hooted and jumped to Harry's shoulder where she rubbed her brow against the side of Harry's head and nipped his ear. "I thought I was going to be all alone, but I should have known you would never leave me. You're the best owl a wizard could have." Hedwig reaffirmed that point with an emphatic hoot.

Hedwig and Harry's happy reunion was interrupted by the arrival of Dobby with breakfast. "Harry Potter! Dobby is so happy to be seeing you happy again, sir!" The elf placed a breakfast spread upon a conjured table at the foot of the bed before leaping onto Harry and hugging him tightly. With Dobby hugging him like that, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty over how he'd snubbed the house-elf the night before.

"Dobby saw what that nasty Muggle has done to Harry Potter's stomach! He knew to get Professor Dumbledore right away, sir! And Dobby was right and now Harry Potter is still alive!" The elf punctuated this statement by adding a sharp squeeze to his hug.

Harry struggled to pull the house elf off. "That's enough, Dobby. I am very glad to see you, too. Do you know if anyone else is going to come to see me today?"

"Good morning, Harry. I trust you are feeling better this morning?"

Harry looked over to the corner of the room and saw Albus Dumbledore standing in the disappearing doorway. As he approached them, Harry replied, "I am well, sir. Dobby just brought me breakfast."

"Ah, indeed he has. Would you mind if I joined you? I thought we might talk more about your plans for this summer. While we are at it, we can address any lingering concerns you have with our previous discussion." Dumbledore conjured a fine oak round table with matching wooden office chairs with padding on their arms, seat, and back.

"Erm…of course, Headmaster. It's your room, after all." Harry rose unsteadily and staggered over to the seat opposite the Headmaster. Dumbledore sat as well.

"Dobby, would you mind serving us?" Dumbledore asked the house elf, who had been patiently waiting at the foot of the bed with the tray holding Harry's breakfast.

"Of course, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir!" With a snap of Dobby's fingers the tray disappeared and two times its contents appeared on the table.

"Thank you, Dobby," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Would you mind staying until we have completed our meal? I may have a few tasks for you, as well as a possible new assignment. You are a very good house-elf, Dobby, and I would like to remind you how glad I am that you can keep Harry's secrets." The Headmaster finished with a smile to an ecstatic Dobby.

Dobby bowed low while he replied, "Of course, sir. Dobby knows nobody must learn that Harry Potter is still alive, sir. Dobby is a good elf and keeps his master's secrets. Dobby will wait for Professor Dumbledore, sir." Dobby quickly retreated a polite distance away and, curiously enough, summoned a pair of knitting needles with a length of knitted wool attached and paid no more mind to them.

Dumbledore turned back to Harry and smiled. "Eat your fill, Harry. There is no rush." The Headmaster began to spoon eggs, kippers, bacon, and a few hashed browns onto his plate with seamless gusto.

"Yes, Headmaster." Harry piled his plate high with breakfast foods and began to eat. It wasn't very long before his impatience got the best of him and he asked, "So what is going to happen to me now, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore finished chewing his food while Harry waited impatiently. He swallowed before replying, "What do you want to happen, Harry?" He sipped his tea and took a dainty bite of his toast while he waited.

"I want… You know what I want, and we both know I'm not going to get it." Harry scowled at the table. "It's just not fair."

"The world seldom is fair, Harry. Fate has been exceedingly cruel to you, but I have faith that everything will work out in the end." This was small comfort for Harry. Dumbledore wasn't abandoning everything _he_ knew and loved so he could train to fight Dark wizards.

Harry grunted and stared absently at the table while he ate, the food tasted like dirt. After he swallowed the last all of his eggs Harry spoke again, "I just want to be happy again. There are so many things that I haven't had that everyone else takes for granted." Harry swallowed audibly before continuing, "I want a normal family, normal friends, and a normal life." Harry looked down into his lap and took a deep breath before wiping his face and lifting his head once more and moodily took a bite of bacon. "Even with any grand sort of plan you might have, Headmaster, I'm not likely to get that."

Dumbledore looked at the youth with twinkling and enigmatic eyes. "You may not see it now, Harry, but all those things you want could still be yours. I cannot give you a family, nor can I tell anyone to be your friend. These are things I am confident you must and will earn yourself. What I can provide you is an environment where you are likely to find them."

Harry stopped chewing and looked at the Headmaster with suspicious confusion. "So, I'll ask you again: what is going to happen?"

The Headmaster paused and gazed at Harry kindly. "As we discussed before, we will disguise you and you will attend Beauxbatons Academy with a different identity. However, there are a great many things you must learn this summer before that is possible. You must put every effort into learning Occlumency; it is imperative that Voldemort remain ignorant of our scheme. I have little doubt that if you are not careful he will sense you, and you will be in danger once again. This is important enough that I will personally instruct you, and see to it that you can construct and maintain a shield keep him from noticing you. If it were possible, I would prefer we began now. Unfortunately, there are things I must attend to this morning. If you have no objection, perhaps we can hold a lesson this evening at seven o'clock?"

"Err... Okay," Harry replied. He should have thought of it before: if he had visions of Voldemort then Voldemort surely could have visions of him. "Err, sir, I've had all these visions of Voldemort. Who is to say he hasn't already had some from me? And if he has had some, couldn't he already know that I'm still alive?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly and replied, "I would know if he had, Harry. Trust me; as of this morning he hasn't. You would do best to try to stay as calm as possible and avoid situations which could upset you. Strong emotion tends to rouse violent movement in a person's magic. Consider the Patronus Charm. The stronger the emotion you feel when you conjure it, the brighter it will be. This concept applies to all magic and you would do well to always keep it in mind."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Okay then. I'll try to stay as calm as I can till I learn this Occlumency stuff."

Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction. "Another thing that you must learn this summer is personal transfiguration. As you recall, when I examined your magic yesterday I sensed the potential for you to develop into at least a partial Metamorphmagus. A Metamorphmagus is a person who can wandlessly transfigure their body at will. They are very rare, but luckily, I believe I can secure a trustworthy one to train you. Tell me, Harry, have you ever had any part of your body change without anyone casting a spell on you?"

This was a bit much for Harry who hesitantly replied, "I'm a what?"

"A person capable of wandless self-transfiguration. Think of it as being similair to possessing the potential to become an Animagus. Has your body ever changed shape unexpectedly? Has your hair ever changed color, or grown or shrunk too quickly for it to be natural? Have you skinned a knee, only to find it healed completely the following morning?"

"Err, my hair. Aunt Petunia always hated it and one day she took some scissors and cut almost all of it off. It was back when I woke up the next morning. They gave me a bucket and locked me in the cupboard for a week after that," Harry frowned.

Dumbledore looked a cross between disgruntled and pleased at that. "Well, the fact remains you did change your hair. It is a start and it will give Nymphadora something to work with. In any case, those are the two skills in which you must achieve competency as soon as possible. I have arranged quarters for you for the rest of the summer with Madame Coine and you will leave later this evening with her. There is one other thing of which you must be made aware, Harry…" Dumbledore sighed. "You will not be able to enter Beauxbatons as a fifth year."

"What?" Harry shouted before continuing in heated tones, "Do you think I'm stupid or something? What is the point of going to school at all if I'm not in the right year? What year do you want me to be in anyway?"

The Headmaster replied as if stating the obvious, "Harry, I do not think you are stupid and please remember to try to stay calm," Dumbledore chided. "You will still be able to learn a great deal of magic both in the Beauxbaton's curriculum as well as outside it as a first year."

Harry snorted and replied, "I haven't been eleven for three years. I won't look like any first year they've ever seen." His glare dared Dumbledore to disagree.

"Then we will simply have to make you eleven again, Harry. There are ways to reduce one's age and to our good fortune, I have the means at hand to do so. I trust you remember the Philosopher's Stone?" After Harry's incredulous nod and statement, "But wasn't it destroyed?" Dumbledore continued. "We will use my stone, of course, as Nicholas's is no longer available."

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at him. "I will have you know that this isn't the first time that this has been accomplished. I was not born Albus Dumbledore, no… In fact three hundred years ago I went by the name Brian Weasley. There is nothing to worry about, Harry, it is a simple procedure and all that you must do is supply four drops of your blood for the potion and then drink it. You will fit right in, don't worry."

Harry shook his head and replied. "Is there anything you can't do, Headmaster?"

"Yes, there is, my boy," the Headmaster said thoughtfully. "But, for the time being, we will deal with what we can do, which begins with hiding you and then teaching you what you must know so that you can do what I cannot."

Silence hung in the air for a minute after Dumbledore finished. Harry stared pensively at the floor for a moment before looking up to Dumbledore with frightened eyes as the enormity of what the Headmaster proposed finally sank in. "I… I never really realized it, sir. You mean, I have to be the one to kill Voldemort? I had always hoped that it would be you. I thought, even though he's always been after me, he is only really afraid of you." Harry took a deep breath. "I have to do it alone; it's always me. Why does it have to be me? Why am I always alone?"

Dumbledore stood up from his chair and rounded the table before drawing the boy out of his chair and into a hug. "I cannot say why fate works the way it does, but I can assure you, Harry, you will never be alone. While you are there you will undoubtedly make new friends, Madame Coine will be there for you, and I will be there for you. When you leave tonight, you will do so with a mirror through which you will always be able to contact me. I know that initially this will be very difficult for you, Harry, but I am confident that you can do this. Always remember that there are people who care for you, and that I am one of them."

Tears leaked out of Harry's eyes as he silently returned the Headmaster's hug.

"I have to go now, Harry. There are a several things that must be done and people who I must see before you leave. I will be back to see you off, and if you become lonely, Dobby is only a ring away." He gestured towards a nightstand which held Dobby's hand-bell. "Dobby also will not leave you Harry, and you may keep the bell. Dobby will hear its summons from anywhere in the world and he will answer them promptly. Isn't that right, Dobby?" Dumbledore smiled at the elf that was still knitting in the corner.

Dobby stood up immediately before he bowed formally. "Dobby would be very happy to be serving Harry Potter, Professor Dumbledore sir."

Dumbledore smiled, "Excellent Dobby. Now Harry, there is one thing I would ask you to be mindful of while using this bell. To avoid any questions, please try to call upon Dobby only when it is likely there would be nobody about to see him leave. It would hardly do for him to disappear while preparing or cleaning up after meals when he is with all the other elves."

The Headmaster stepped away from Harry and made for the door.

Harry called out a rough, quick, and heartfelt, "Thank you, Headmaster," before Dumbledore smiled at him over his shoulder and stepped through the door which promptly disappeared.

Harry slouched at the table for a minute before he sighed, stretched, and gingerly stepped back into his bed. "Dobby, would you like to visit me from time to time this summer? I think you might be my only friend who'll be allowed to see me."

"Of course Dobby will visit! Ring his bell and Dobby will be coming to visit or clean or cook for Harry Potter whenever he wants!" the elf responded with gusto.

Harry smiled back at the elf. "Well, I suppose I better get started with my packing. Would you mind clearing up breakfast?"

"Of course, Harry Potter!" A snap later the spread was gone and Dobby was bowing before he too disappeared with a crack.

Harry didn't much like the idea of rolling out of bed again so soon, and he stepped softly and moved slowly as he sat down before his trunk. The next hour saw Harry sorting and folding its meager contents, including some he hadn't seen for what felt like years. Everything that Harry owned was there, and after checking that he had everything, (mostly his album, invisibility cloak, the map, and a few of his birthday and Christmas gifts) he began to sort them back into the trunk.

After folding one too many pairs of his faded grey shorts, Harry came to a sudden realization. Harry's wardrobe was not only absolutely dreadful, it was conspicuous. He couldn't very well go out and shop for new clothing now, though. Someone would certainly recognize him. He left his trunk open and crawled back up onto his bed, resolving to ask Dumbledore about it when he returned. Once he was comfortable, Harry realized that he had little else to do for the rest of the day; and for the lack of anything better to do, he settled down once again to resume where he'd left off in _Your Magic and You_.

About two and a half hours later, Harry was startled to hear the sound of someone knocking on wood. "Who is there?" He called to the room at large.

"It is I!" The voice of Aileen Coine sounded from the wall around the area where the door had been before.

Harry wiped a hand over his face in relief. "Oh, well, come in then," Harry called back before marking his place in the book and putting it down on the nightstand.

She was already in the room when Harry looked up a few seconds later. "'Ello 'Arry," she greeted.

Harry smiled slightly and returned her greeting. "Hello, what brings you here?"

"I am 'ere to deescuss with you our summer. Professor Dumbly-dorr 'as told me 'is plans for you. I 'ave a 'ouse on ze lands of ze Delacour Château. You can stay with me there in a weezarding tent until you 'ave learned ze metamorph magics. I zink that will be safe enough, non?"

"Err... will it be a nice tent?" he asked. He could clearly remember the cat-smelling one the Weasleys had had at the World Cup. Staying in one of those for months on end was the last thing he wanted to do.

She smiled at Harry with amusement. "Of course ze tent will be splendide with all you will need. You will be tres confortable. I zink ze 'eadmaster 'as some zings for you to be taking with us. A meerror?"

"Yeah he said something about that. Do you think now that I'm dead we can put a Glamour on me so I can get some new clothes?" he asked hopefully.

Madame Coine laughed before she replied, "Non, 'Arry you know better zen zat." She looked at him thoughtfully before continuing. "Eizer me or ze 'ouse-elf can take ze measurements and find clothes for you."

Thinking fast he stammered, "Err.. I'll have Dobby do the measurements and give them to you okay?" If he had to take anything off, Harry thought he would rather do it in front of the house-elf than the mediwitch any day. He smiled weakly. "I'll have him do it today after lunch. Don't get too much though. When I get de-aged I might shrink a bit."

Aileen smiled merrily and cheerily replied, "Eef you are more comfortable with ze 'ouse-elf. I will acquerir one set of clothing zen... Ze tent is set up and is ready for you. You are packed... I zink zat is it."

"How about lunch then?" Harry asked, glad to change the subject.

"After I see your stomach. You should not be out of ze bed yet, but I see zer is no keeping you down." She gave Harry an indulgent smile before carefully pressing Harry down into the bed and lifting up Harry's shirt to begin her examination. "I will 'ave restoring potions for you tonight. You still must be drinking zem." Harry blushed with embarrassment, but managed to keep from criticizing her tactless bed manners.

Dobby was summoned for lunch only after Madame Coine finished examining Harry's belly with a lengthy combination of diagnostic charms. After a meal of ham and Swiss sandwiches, Harry decided to finally put up with the inevitable and told Dobby that he needed his measurements taken so Madame Coine could go clothes shopping for him later.

After sending Madame Coine away laughing at his embarrassment, Harry subjected himself to the house-elf's enthusiastic attentions. It was a mortifying experience that Harry was more than happy to be done with by the time he got his gray sweats and jumper back on.

Once he was done measuring, Dobby popped away to deliver his magically written results to Madame Coine. With nothing left to do that afternoon, Harry settled down again to read.

It was dusk before another visitor came to Harry's room. When the door opened shortly after seven Harry could do nothing but sit there and gape as a familiar gaunt man rushed towards him all but screaming his name.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter: Interlude: Interlude: Revelations in Grief

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews. Without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.


	8. Chapter 7: Interlude: Revelations in Gri...

Interlude: Revelations in Grief

o –––––– o –––––– o

Vernon Dursley, formerly of number four, Privet Drive stirred and snorted softly as he began to wake from his troubled sleep. He opened his eyes to find himself spread-eagled on a cold stone floor in a dark, stonewalled cell with no windows and a door made of thick bars. He slowly sat up and, after a quick perusal, found Petunia to his left on a thin prison bed and his son dozing with his back up in the corner behind him to his right. He gratefully noted the slow rise and fall of their chests; at least they were all still alive.

He scrambled clumsily to his wife and whispered, "Hsst. Petunia, wake up!"

Petunia kept her eyes closed and groaned, "Vernon, dear, tell the boy to go make breakfast and let me sleep in."

Vernon scowled. If it wasn't for that dratted boy, they wouldn't be in this fix. "Petunia, wake up! Those no good filthy freaks caught us! Bloody hell; where the devil are we?"

His ranting and raving seemed to shake his wife out of her daze, because she stilled for a brief moment before letting out one of the loudest and sharpest shrieks he'd ever heard from her. She sat up and took in the cell with wild eyes, then put her elbows on her knees and covered her eyes with her hands as she started to sob. "We're doomed, Vernon! Doomed! If only you hadn't shot the boy… It's all your fault, I told you they would come! I told you…"

Vernon sneered. "Well excuse me, Petunia, but he looked like he was going to blow up the whole house and us with it! I didn't have a bloody choice! When I see them I will demand justice!"

Petunia laughed bitterly through her tears. "Freak justice is no justice, Vernon; they won't care. They'll be angry that we killed their precious savior and they'll lock us away for our entire lives or worse. We'll be lucky if they kill us, Vernon! Lucky!"

"So how do we get out of this then? Do we get a phone call? I'll call the police and they'll…" Vernon began.

Petunia cut him off. "We can't get out, we can't call anyone, and even if we did they would make them forget. By this time tomorrow, our obituaries will be in the Little Whinging Gazette, killed by 'some freak viruses' or 'a gas leak'. The freaks will make anyone who cares about us forget, and that'll be it! No more Dursleys," she babbled.

"Mummy! Make them let us out! I want to go home!" Dudley had woken by that time and his six chins were rippling and bouncing along with his chattering jaw. He stood up and stepped quickly to the bars and began pulling at them. "Let us out!"

"Shut up, Dudley! Do you want to get the freaks' attention?" Vernon snapped.

"It doesn't matter, we're doomed! They're going to kill us," Petunia moaned.

Vernon spared her a venomous glance before he snarled, "Both of you shut up! Keep pulling on those bars, Dudley. I'll help you."

Vernon stood up beside his son and grabbed the bar Dudley was pulling on. "On three, son…one…two…three…pull!" He dug his feet in and leaned back and pulled with all his might while Dudley grunted beside him. The bar didn't give at all. A few seconds later he let go and panted, "Alright let's rest a minute before we try again." He favored his teary-eyed wife with a glance. "Petunia, while we're at this, try and find another way out."

Twenty minutes later things were much the same. Petunia had a lost look on her face while Dudley and Vernon continued to wrestle with the bars. Suddenly the sound of footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor – lots of footsteps.

"Dudley, get away from the bars and be quiet!" Vernon hissed. He backed off from the door just as a cadre of five dress-wearing freaks marched into view and stopped before their cell.

The leader among the freaks suddenly turned to a black haired young woman and told her, "Shackle them up, Tonks, and we'll be on our way."

The woman nodded grimly and a freak stick appeared in her hand. She turned to Vernon and started waving the stick around and saying her unnaturalness. She was angry and a flash of light blasted from the end of the stick and caught Vernon in the chest. His arms were forced behind his back and a pair of metal cuffs clamped painfully on his wrists.

"Now see here!" he blustered. "We have rights, you know. I want my phone call!"

The freaks paid no attention to him and the girl freak went on to secure both Dudley and Petunia before herding them out of the cell. An implacable force seemed to grip his shoulders from behind and pushed him staggering out into the hall. Petunia and Dudley followed and the freaks started to lead them down the stone corridor with two in front, the freak lady pushing them along right behind them, and another two freaks keeping up the rear.

The freaks led them down a series of torch-lined corridors until they stopped before a large wooden door secured with a massive iron lock. One of the freaks addressed the others: "We're to wait here till we're summoned." They nodded and formed a circle.

"Where are you taking us?" Petunia's voice hitched hysterically.

"Courtroom three," one of the younger freak men replied and pointed at the door.

"Courtroom what? If I'm to be tried for some crime, I demand it be in a proper court of law!" Vernon blustered. The freaks continued to ignore him and finally his temper completely snapped. Vernon stomped importantly over to the Tonks freak and toppled her with a quick charge. "Listen to me, you freak! I am a citizen of the U.K. and I demand that you release me at once!"

Something struck him in the back; Vernon was suddenly frozen stiff. He couldn't feel a thing, couldn't move a thing… what had they done to him?

"Feisty bastard, that one," one of the freaks commented before extending a hand to help the Tonks freak to her feet.

"Sure is," Tonks replied as she surreptitiously rubbed her bum. "You'd think with all the galleons the higher ups throw around we could at least get the Ministry carpeted."

Petunia and Dudley just stood there, both pasty faced and shivering in fright during the whole exchange. They waited in silence for another twenty minutes with the freaks exchanging a few words to each other from time to time before the large doors were flung open and a pinch nosed woman in the chamber beyond motioned them in.

The woman freak, Tonks, waved her stick at Vernon and suddenly he was floating above the ground while two of the other freaks, young men, waved their sticks at Petunia and Dudley and forced them to walk alongside him as he was floated into the center of a large stone chamber.

The light din in the chamber fell silent at their entrance. Raised booths filled with benches lined the walls of the chamber, at least ten rows deep, and they were packed with stone-faced freaks of all ages. Vernon was parked in the cleared center of the chamber in front of the second of three manacle clad chairs. Dudley and Petunia were seated unclamped on either side of him.

On the benches before him sat a group of uniformed freaks clad in purple colored robes. A severe looking woman in the center of the front row stood up and cleared her throat before announcing, "Order, order everyone. The accused have been brought forth and we shall begin in a moment. Are you ready to begin?" She looked at the freaks down the bench on either side of her before settling on one at the end.

"Ready ma'am," called a middle-aged woman who sat at the end of the bench. If it wasn't for her robes, she almost could have looked like a normal secretary. Regardless, she sat at her sole desk (with a quill and parchment of all things) and looked ready to record.

"Very well then. Investigative Hearing of the seventh of July into the murder of Harry Potter yesterday morning at the Dursley residence, number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Pontus Brenen Clearwater, representing the International Confederation of Wizards; Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Court Scribe, Paula Louise Mansi."

A fat freak who sat to the left of the severe woman asked the guard freaks, "Did they give you any trouble, Aurors?" He pointed rudely at Vernon with a derisive smirk.

"Not so much; the old fat one tried to cause a scene, but we shut him up sir, no problem," one of the guard freaks said.

During this exchange the woman-freak in the front row put an odd looking monocle to her eye and briefly skimmed a piece of parchment. She cleared her throat to put an end to the side conversation before she put down her monocle and announced, "Mr. Dursley, you are being charged with the murder of Harry James Potter; how do you plead? Oh yes, free him from the body bind, Nymphadora."

Again something struck his back and Vernon could feel all his parts once again. He hastily ran his hands over his legs, stomach, and arms before he shuddered in relief.

The monocle freak asked again, "Mr. Dursley, I repeat, how do you plead?"

Vernon froze in his examination and he knew he had to think of something fast to get out of this. Maybe if he played dumb, they'd let him go. "What am I being charged with?"

"The murder of Harry James Potter, Mr. Dursley," the woman answered with annoyance.

"That brat? If he's dead I didn't kill him. Nothing to do with it, no sir," Vernon announced with as much indignation as he could muster.

An angry looking red-haired freak made to stand up but was motioned down by the monocle freak. She looked to someone behind Vernon and boomed, "Bring forth the murder weapon."

A freak in white robes passed Vernon with Vernon's shotgun floating in front of the freak's stick. Sweat beaded on Vernon's brow.

"Have you ever seen this weapon before, Mr. Dursley?" the monocle freak asked.

"No, never seen that one in my life," Vernon blustered. They didn't have some sort of freak forensics that would prove it was him, did they?

"How can that be when it was found in your bedroom, Mr. Dursley? We have verified that it was the weapon that killed Mr. Potter and that you were the last one to use it," the monocle freak asked.

Grumbles rose from the on looking freaks and Vernon desperately tried to think of some explanation. He opened his mouth, but before he could say something Petunia stood up. "Vernon was scared and frightened, your honor. The boy was going to do something unnatural. He was having a nightmare and glowing green! We were afraid he might blow up! We didn't have any choice but to kill him!" Vernon covered his eyes in dismay. So much for playing dumb. How could Petunia do that to them?

"Petunia! This is no time to come unhinged and spout all kinds of filthy lies!"

Petunia snarled, "They'll find out who killed him no matter what we say, Vernon! Be honest and be civil and maybe they will be more understanding."

While this was going on the purple freaks on the bench were whispering to each other. The monocle lady cleared her throat after the red-haired freak finished whispering angrily in her ear. "Are there any other crimes you would care to admit before we resume questioning? Our sentencing may be more lenient if you confess now rather than later."

Well damn them all to hell. If Vernon was going down he certainly was going to take Petunia with him. "If the boy was normal there is no doubt we'd go to jail for child abuse. If the boy wasn't up early enough to make our breakfast Petunia would crack his head with a frying pan; if he broke a dish we broke his fingers; if he did any of his freak magic Petunia would lock him in his cupboard for a week without meals. We did all sorts of cruel things to him; we'd be here for a year if you wanted us to name them all. The boy was our slave; if he didn't do his work fast enough or good enough, he got crunched. We ridiculed him and his freak parents at every opportunity, we spread tales of what a pathetic lowlife he really is, we made sure he knew his proper place in the world… a nasty piece of slime in the bottom of the foulest sewer in all of Surrey!" Word by word Petunia's face grew paler and paler.

"Your honor! We may not have given the boy the best childhood, but Vernon is making us out to be vicious monsters!" she shrieked.

"Really," the red-haired freak shouted, "how many times did you crack his head with a frying pan, then?" The freak glared at them.

Petunia appeared flustered. "I didn't keep count of things like that!"

Another purple-robed freak declared, "I think we've heard quite enough! I am quite ready to deliver a ruling and begin sentencing." He looked to the other freaks in the front row and they exchanged glances and nodded at each other.

The monocle freak stood and cleared her throat. "There will be a short recess while the Wizengamot convenes to decide the Dursleys' respective fates."

The plum robed freaks stood and exited the chamber through a door behind their benches. A growing rumble of conversation came from the surrounding audience at their exit with a few freaks shouting at Vernon, decrying his acts and calling him a monster and Muggle. Well, he couldn't be bothered with them. He awkwardly lowered himself into his chair with his arms still trapped behind him. He looked over to his wife and found Petunia glaring at him.

In a scathing voice that was barely audible over the din, she snapped, "Vernon! You just had to bring that up, didn't you? Now that we're both going to jail, who is going to watch over our Dudley now? You just had to point a finger at me, didn't you? You were doomed from the start; the least you could have done was try to keep me free!"

Bloody hell, he never even thought of that! He wished he had kept his mouth shut. At least Dudley had the sense to sit down and sta+0y quiet, though as he looked at his son's pale face and trembling knees he thought Dudley's silence may be more from fear than good sense.

Vernon sighed and shook his head before telling his wife, "You're right Petunia, I was a fool." He couldn't look at his wife anymore and instead directed his gaze to the floor. Self blame and a terrible sense of foreboding coursed through him as the jeers of the audience passed over him all but unheard.

No more than ten minutes later the purple-robed freaks returned. They all remained standing as the monocle freak called for order. "The Wizengamot has reached a decision in this case, the Dursley Family vs. the Wizards and Witches of Britain. Vernon Dursley, you are found guilty of the charges of murder and child abuse of the late Harry James Potter. Petunia Evans Dursley, you also are found guilty of child abuse. The Wizengamot has also reached a decision for both of your sentences. Vernon Dursley is hereby condemned to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban Prison. As Harry Potter spent thirteen years in your abusive care, Petunia Evans Dursley, so shall you spend thirteen years in Azkaban Prison as well. Dudley Dursley shall be sent to a Muggle orphanage, which he shall make his home until he reaches his majority. The entirety of the Dursley estate shall be held in trust by the Ministry until such time that Dudley Dursley reaches his majority and the Head of the Child Services Office sees fit to authorize its release. This session of the court is adjourned. Aurors! Escort the condemned to the transition cells. Mr. Weasley, please see to Dudley Dursley's placement in the orphanage of your choice. Ms. Mansi, please copy and file the transcripts of these proceedings appropriately. In addition to that, please prepare an extra copy for my personal records. Thank you, everyone."

The crowd cheered and the purple-robed freaks sat and chattered amongst themselves while an Auror-freak stood behind him and physically pulled him upright. "Time to go, scumbag," the young Auror-freak told him. He gave Vernon a shove which made him stumble. As Vernon was led from the chamber in front of his shrieking wife, a sense of doom overwhelmed him. A week ago everything was well and fine in his life and now… now, who knew what nightmares were in store for him?

o –––––– o –––––– o

The pleasant morning weather did nothing to brighten Remus Lupin's dismal mood. It had been two hellish days since he and Sirius woke to the news of Harry's death and the thought of attending his Sending and seeing his body was like a dagger to Remus's heart.

The ceremony itself was to begin in thirty minutes. The backyard lawn of the ancestral Potter Manor, which was set up to host the event, was already filled with black-clad mourners. Despite having been a Hogwarts professor the previous year, Remus thought he knew perhaps a third of the attendants.

A very loud yet sincere sounding sob drew Remus's attention to a dark clad group that could only be the Weasleys. Their grief showed starkly in their demeanor, their faces looked dejected and thoroughly miserable even from the hundred feet or so that separated Remus from them. Oddly enough, it appeared that Molly had taken the death particularly hard. They would be sitting in the front row. The werewolf and his scraggy dog would be standing in the back.

He stood there and watched, feeling numb to the world, contemplating trivial matters about the other guests in an attempt to keep from thinking about the late young boy that brought him here.

A soft cough behind him drew him from his meaningless pondering and he turned to face Albus Dumbledore, the man who had placed Harry with the murdering bastards in the first place. Remus felt Sirius' hackles raise as the dog growled menacingly at the old man.

Dumbledore favored Sirius with a sad smile and reached down to scratch him behind the ears for all the world like he was a normal dog. Sirius positively quivered with rage before he suddenly stilled. If Dumbledore had not raised his eyes to look at Remus, he would have seen the dog's jaw drop and his eyes pop in shock.

"Professor Dumbledore," Remus said frostily.

The old man sighed at Remus's tone. "Hello Remus. I cannot say how sorry I am for you… for both of you. I am aware that you both have many things to ask as well as tell me, but perhaps it can wait until after the Sending?"

While Dumbledore was talking, a quiet whimper sounded at Remus's side and he looked down just in time to see Sirius collapse. The dog's sudden flop to the ground caught Dumbledore's attention and, to Remus's surprise, he eyed the dog suspiciously.

After a pause Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Well then, there are things I am expected to do and I must see to them. I will find you after the Sending." With that, the ancient wizard walked off to mingle with the crowd.

Remus watched him for a moment, and then looked down at Sirius, who still had his nose in the dirt. "Mr. Moony has always wondered how Mr. Padfoot eats the things he does, but never before has Mr. Moony seen Mr. Padfoot eating dirt." Remus commented as he tugged on the leash.

This seemed to drag Sirius out of his stupor for the dog immediately snorted and shook his head before jumping to his feet and grabbing Remus's cloak with his teeth. With wild eyes, the dog pulled and tugged Remus away from the crowd. "You better have something important to say, Padfoot, or I'll hex you bald."

Sirius let go of Remus's cloak and hurriedly clawed letters in the dirt with his paw, H-O-M-E. "Alright already, let's just walk off a bit so nobody notices us leaving." Sirius was excitable by nature, but what in the world could rouse him so at a time like this? He took up the leash and led an obviously anxious Sirius well away from the crowd before Apparating both of them to his small flat.

Sirius immediately transformed and grabbed Remus's robe below his neck and shook him. "He's alive! I smelled him on Dumbledore's hands! He touched Harry less than an hour ago and he was alive! Ha-ha!" Sirius let go of Remus's robe and started to dance around the parlor.

Remus gathered his scattered wits and quickly cast silencing charms around the room. He turned to his friend and asked in a trembling voice, "What? Padfoot, take this from the beginning. Harry is alive?"

"Yes!" Sirius crowed. "When Dumbledore petted my head I could smell Harry on him! He'd obviously washed his hands but I could smell him through the soap! Never thought to spell his hands scentless! Ha!"

The wave of relief that passed through Remus nearly rendered him as giddy as his Animagus friend. "Wow… This is wonderful, Padfoot!" He collapsed in a nearby chair and smiled so hard his cheeks ached.

"Wonderful! Ha! Take that Dumbledore! We've got to find him, Moony! And give Dumbledore what for, letting us think he's dead. That was damned cruel."

Remus paused to think. Dumbledore had to have a good reason to do what he did. He very likely staged Harry's death in the first place. It made perfect sense: what better way to shake Voldemort off his trail then making him think Harry was dead? "Sirius calm down and listen to me; we can't tell anyone – and I mean anyone – that Harry is still alive."

"What!"

"Think about it Sirius: Why would Dumbledore stage Harry's death if not to get Voldemort off his trail? You remember, Harry has nearly been killed at least once every year since he got to Hogwarts, and now with Voldemort back the danger will be even worse! Dumbledore would probably Obliviate us if he knew that we know."

"Spot on, Professor Moony, I think you're right! I refuse to forget, though! We've got to confront Dumbledore about this and convince him we're trustworthy enough to know. I want to see Harry, too." Sirius paused a moment. "Oh, and we better leave reminders around here just in case he does try to erase our memories." Sirius rushed for Remus's desk for parchment, ink, and quill.

"Right, you hide some where you think I'll find them and I'll hide some for you," Remus said as followed suit.

The next few minutes consisted of many notes being written and hidden around the flat. After hiding five notes in less than obvious places where Remus knew Sirius was likely to find them, Remus went to the parlor once again and waited for Sirius.

A minute later Sirius emerged from the kitchen. "Okay, Mr. Moony, now we need a plan. How are we going to approach Dumbledore?" he asked, scratching his head.

Remus broke the silence hesitantly. "I'll go back to the Sending alone. I'll confront Dumbledore there and let him know we won't be left out. You stay here till I get back and don't let anyone else in. Put up a few anti-Apparation wards around the flat while I'm gone, and if we're going to play Mad-Eye's constant vigilance, we'll need a password. Hmm… 'Hagrid eats turkeys for dinner'. Got it?"

At Sirius' nod, Remus added, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Remus Apparated back to the Sending to find everyone seated and the minister's service complete. Evidently the individual speaker presentations had begun, for Hermione Granger was walking shakily from the raised podium by the casket and passed a downcast Ginny Weasley as she made her way to take Hermione's spot at the podium.

Ginny spoke in a loud and broken voice. "Like everyone else my age, I grew up hearing stories about Harry Potter. I got this picture in my head of who he was. And then I met him, and he wasn't what was in my head...he was better. He was brave and kind and he came and got me when I was lost in a dark place." The redhead rubbed her eyes. "I wish...I wish I could have gotten him from his...but I guess he'll never have to worry about dark places again." She finished haltingly and quickly rushed off the stage with her head down and a hand shading her eyes.

Speaker after speaker went up to talk about Harry. Several of the speakers obviously only knew Harry from hearsay and second hand accounts until finally Dumbledore approached the podium. He rubbed his face as if he were wiping tears from his eyes and cleared his throat. "We lost a very fine person in Harry Potter. His bravery and compassion, as well as his steadfast resolve to right wrongs, will be missed by us all, regardless of whether you knew him or not. Those of us who did know Harry knew that he was a boy with many burdens, who, despite everything that was piled upon him, remained conscious of the well-being of his friends and often put their welfare above his own. He was compassionate and generous, brave and true. His passing is worthy of great notice for many wizards and witches and it truly will affect us all.

The burdens that Harry Potter shouldered have now fallen on us. Lord Voldemort himself had burdened young Harry's shoulders since before the hour of his birth. Now that Voldemort is returned, his influence has spread so that he is now a weight upon all of our shoulders. I have no doubt that it would be Harry's wish that we fight as he did, to free ourselves from this dark burden and realize what Harry unfortunately could not. I speak of course of a society free of any Dark wizard's grip, a society of peace and freedom where a person is judged for who they are rather than what they are. In tribute to Harry Potter, I swear I shall do what I am able to see that society come to pass and I urge you all to join me. Remember Harry and may he rest in peace."

A moment of silence passed before Dumbledore stepped down and the minister of the church replaced him. He raised his hands and solemnly announced, "May our words lend strength to his memory and may our faith give credence to the light of Harry Potter as he sits before the Lord of Judgment." The minister lowered his hands and produced his wand. He levitated the cover off the raised coffin and laid it down on the grass behind it.

"It is time for the making of the wands of memory and the filling of the Legacy Orb. Would everyone who wishes to participate please line up before the podium," the Minister said.

Thankfully most of those in attendance stayed seated and Remus found himself at the end of a relatively short line. Dumbledore headed the line, followed closely by Hermione and the Weasleys. There were only about twenty teenagers and a few Ministry employees between Remus and the red-headed brood.

He watched as Dumbledore went first. The Headmaster was given a hollow holly wand before he went before the coffin and went through the process of filling and sealing the wand before adding his memories to the Orb.

It was some minutes before Remus found himself at the head of the line. He took his coreless wand and stopped before the casket. He carefully looked over the corpse. It certainly looked authentic and it certainly smelled as a dolled up corpse should. Still, he followed procedure and plucked a hair from the body's head for the wand. The minister sealed it and Remus moved on to the Orb of Legacy. He selectively focused on a few safe memories he could afford to deposit and using the newly crafted wand drew them from his temple and placed the grey wispy strands upon the orb, which immediately sucked them in. He drew a long breath and made his way back to his seat.

"With his soul and magic already departed, we will speed his body to the great adventure beyond in the hope that he will find it and be complete once more. May the Lord Sylus, in his mercy, favor him and may his fires illumine him forever more," the minister intoned before brandishing his ceremonial ash wand and incanted the Sending.

As the minister finished the incantation a brilliant light blazed in the casket and large white flame flashed through its open top. Slowly a fount of glowing sparks floated from the open casket and a light breeze blew them from the casket in an ever expanding radius. Where the sparks landed they imparted a soft and temporary glow to their surroundings before fading away to nothing. A few landed on Remus and warmed him. A small part of the cloud of depression seemed to lift among the assembled wizards and witches and as the last of the sparks faded their faces looked a little less dour.

"Today we said farewell to the wizard named Harry Potter. The friends of Harry Potter and the Church of the Divine Three thank you all for attending and hope you all can attend the celebration of Harry Potter's life and magic on these grounds, one month from this day, on the 8th of August," the minister announced in closing.

The crowd stood and began to break up. Remus pocketed his newly crafted wand and quickly tried to track down Dumbledore. He found him speaking with the Weasleys and Hermione.

Several faces turned at his approach and Hermione murmured, "Hello, Professor Lupin."

"How could you leave him with those terrible Muggles when you knew how badly he was treated there, Dumbledore?" Molly Weasley asked.

It seemed Remus had arrived in the middle of an argument and one that Dumbledore was eager to be away from. "Molly," he said in his best reasonable voice, "while he was there he was safe from anyone who wanted to attack him with dark magic. If I had placed him elsewhere it is very likely he would have died many years ago at the hands of one of Voldemort's many followers that evaded Azkaban."

Dumbledore moved closer to Remus as Molly ranted on. "Even so, how could you let them treat him like that? You should have done something!"

"Yes, I should have, Molly. I admit I erred in Harry's case. I did not know the full scope of his relatives' actions until after he arrived at Hogwarts, and by then it was too late." Dumbledore abruptly turned his attention from Molly to Remus as he advanced. "Ah, Remus, you have a few matters you wish to discuss?"

"Yes, I do, Dumbledore," Remus affirmed frostily.

"Go on then, and speak to Remus, Dumbledore. I can have words with you later," Molly snapped. "Come along, Weasleys, and you too, Hermione. We're going home."

Dumbledore watched the retreating Weasleys with sympathetic eyes. Remus walked behind him and whispered harshly in his ear, "It's very cruel of you to let them believe such a horrible lie."

The old man stiffened and turned slowly, while carefully surveying his surroundings. "Perhaps you would explain what you mean by that if we were to speak privately?"

"I would," Remus affirmed.

"Very well, let us take this to my office. I see Padfoot has run off somewhere; would it be appropriate to fetch him for this as well?" Dumbledore asked with raised brows.

"Only on the condition that you do not try to modify any of our memories," Remus responded.

The Headmaster's lips pursed and he looked at Remus thoughtfully for a long moment before countering, "Very well, I will swear not to modify your memory on this matter without your express permission."

Remus didn't hesitate. "Agreed, swear now and I'll go fetch him and meet you back here as soon as I can lock up my flat."

Dumbledore produced his wand and swore on his magic, "On the matter that I believe we are to discuss I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear that I shall not modify your memory without your expressed approval."

Remus nodded in agreement before Apparating to the front door of his flat. He knocked loudly on the door before Sirius asked, "Who's there?"

"Hagrid eats turkeys for dinner," Remus replied.

"Remus!" Sirius threw open the door.

"Get back in, you convict!" Remus said and closed the door behind him. "We're to meet Dumbledore to talk about _him_. Change into Padfoot while I lock up."

Sirius blinked before the onslaught but did not argue. He changed into Padfoot and waited by the door as Remus went through the flat casting locking and monitoring charms on all the windows and doors.

Remus came back to the front door with Padfoot's leash and collar in hand. "We're going back to Potter Manor to meet him," he said while he knelt to collar and leash his friend.

Once they were outside Remus closed and locked the door, "Ready?" At Padfoot's nod Remus Apparated them both back to the lawn.

Sirius immediately spotted Dumbledore and tugged Remus towards him.

Sirius sat before Dumbledore's impassive gaze and growled up at the man. Remus coughed and asked, "So where will we take this?"

"My office, I think. I've prepared a portkey for our use." Dumbledore pulled a long sock from one of his cavernous sleeves. He moved it so the end rested on Padfoot's nose and looked expectantly to Remus. "When you're ready Remus,"

Remus grasped it around the middle, and after reaffirming that the sock was touching Padfoot, Dumbledore tapped the sock with his wand, '_Portus_.'

Remus's feet lifted from the ground and the usual hooking sensation gripped his gut. He was pulled through the familiar storm of howling winds and flashing color until he jerked to a stop and his feet landed firmly on the floor of Dumbledore's office.

"Welcome to my office, please make yourselves comfortable," the Headmaster stated mildly as he walked around his claw-footed desk to sit in his great chair. He regarded them shrewdly as Remus sat in one of the two chairs that just happened to be right behind them when they appeared in the office. "I expect you have a few things to ask me," Dumbledore offered.

Sirius had no qualms about speaking his mind. Shaking, he leaned towards the aged man to bellow, "What have you done with Harry? I know he's not dead and you better have a good reason doing what you did because it nearly killed me when I heard! Where is he!"

Dumbledore sighed regretfully. "You both know of the many times that Harry has faced death at Hogwarts and elsewhere. With Harry's perilous history I thought it unlikely for Harry to have any chance of living to see the end of his seventh year here or even if he did manage to live that long that his years would be happy. I am arranging a new life for him which I feel holds the promises of both happiness and, hopefully, longevity."

There really wasn't anything Remus had to say to refute that, but he did have other issues to take up with the man. "But was it necessary to conceal this from everyone who cares about Harry? Sirius and I would die to protect that secret, and you should know that," Remus pressed.

Sirius crossed his arms and grunted in approval to Remus's question. Dumbledore merely leaned back and shook his head resignedly. "The more people who believe that Harry is dead, the more secure this secret remains. The show of your sincere sorrow gives credence to that belief; also keep in mind that one cannot give away what one does not know. If either of you were to be captured by Lord Voldemort, then Harry's chance to live his new life may be jeopardized."

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks. What Dumbledore said was heart-wrenchingly true. Remus was resigned to having to forget. Sirius spoke up again. "Can you tell us what you have planned for him?" His expression was miserable and it was obvious that he held little hope for a good answer.

"He will assume a new identity and continue his magical education so that he may live his new life and be prepared for any hazards that may come his way," Dumbledore answered patiently.

"Is there anyway I could go with him? ... Can we at least see him before he's gone?" Sirius pressed.

Dumbledore nodded his agreement and stood. "I suppose since you both know about him that it would be alright for you to see him one last time. Follow me."

He walked up a stairwell that lead to a blank wall, which he tapped twice with his wand. The wall glowed softly before swirling and forming into an open doorway beyond which lay a brightly lit bedroom. Sirius was through the doorway in a flash, pushing Dumbledore aside as he raced towards his godson.

"Harry! I thought I'd never see you again," Sirius cried as he enveloped the stunned form of the Boy who Still Lived in a tight and desperate hug. "Oh gods, you're alive. You can't believe how much it hurt to think you were dead. Merlin, it is so good to see you." Sirius gave Harry a tight squeeze that made him gasp.

Remus smiled at the sight and added, "It really is great to see you, Harry. This old dog has been unbearable since we heard the news."

Sirius snorted, "You were hardly better and you know it, Remus,"

Harry struggled in Sirius' grasp. "Ugh… Sirius… I can't breathe!"

Sirius quickly loosened his hug and sat back and apologized, "I'm sorry, Harry, but I couldn't help it!" He smiled at Harry and favored him with a look of unfettered joy.

Harry bit his lip and asked in a cautious voice, "I thought Professor Dumbledore said you couldn't know that I was alive. I asked him if I could tell you, you know. What are you doing here?" He flashed a questioning glance at the Headmaster who was lurking in the doorway.

Dumbledore gave Harry a quaint smirk and lightly replied, "I have yet to discover quite how they found out. Once they knew, there appeared to be little reason to keep them from seeing you before you go."

Remus answered for Sirius, whose attention was still rapt on his godson. "Sirius smelled Harry on your hand earlier today. You should spell yourself scentless whenever you leave these rooms.

"Ah, I should have thought of that. I spelled my robes but only washed my hands. Quite thoroughly, I might add." Dumbledore shook his head and sighed, "It was a mistake I will not make again."

"Sir…" Harry began, "Umm… you remember how you said you could make me younger… Do you think you could do that for Sirius too? I could use a friend where I'm going… Only if he wants to come, of course," Harry finished hopefully.

"What!" Sirius exclaimed.

Remus looked at Dumbledore curiously. "I've never heard of any magic that can actually make someone younger before."

Dumbledore held up his hand for silence, "I will consider it, Harry. You do not know the risk that comes with using such magic. I will give you an answer soon… That is, if the idea of going back to school is at all appealing to you, Sirius?"

Sirius didn't even hesitate. "Was the best time of my life! I'd love to go to school again with Harry. It'd be me and Jamesie all over again. You want to come too, Remus?" Sirius's eyes were bright.

"I think one time is more than enough for me Sirius," Remus replied with forced humor. He could already sense Dumbledore's opposition to the idea.

"Unlike you, Sirius, Remus would be missed," Dumbledore solemnly said, "I'm afraid I cannot agree under any conditions for him to join Harry. He could do far more good where he is and I can perform this magic only for so many."

Remus gazed at Sirius thoughtfully. "I'll agree to a memory charm if you let Sirius go," he offered resignedly.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Very well. There is little Sirius can do but hide for now. I see no reason to deny him this hiding scheme where he can also serve as a bodyguard for Harry. There will, however, be conditions that you must agree to uphold if this is to happen, and I am quite adamant that you uphold them, Sirius. If you do not, I will turn you into a eunuch… and the condition will be quite permanent."

Sirius gasped at the threat and Harry cheered, "Yes! We'll have so much fun! Say, Sirius, can you speak French?" Harry inquired cheerfully.

Sirius looked flummoxed and Dumbledore laughed softly at the convict and his godson before he turned to Remus. "I believe you have a few cursory pieces of evidence to destroy before undergoing the charm."

At Remus's nod the Headmaster continued, "I have a scenario to propose for your post charm condition... So far as you will know, Sirius will be on a long undercover mission for the Order. I will tell you that I will reveal the nature of the mission to you only in the instance that you should learn Occlumency. Once your competency at Occlumency is sufficient to allow your inclusion in this secret, I will brief you on the truth of what happened here tonight. Does that sound well to you?"

It sounded great to Remus. It was agreed that Sirius would stay the night, and an hour later Remus made bittersweet good-byes to Harry and Sirius before returning to his flat. He proceeded to destroy all the folded bits of paper proclaiming Harry as being alive that he could find before fixing himself an early dinner and then wrestling with himself as he tried to fall asleep. He twisted and turned in his bed, his mind filled with thoughts of the loneliness he would face with Sirius gone again as well as unease for something he could not place. All the while, buried and forgotten, one lone bit of paper remained. It was buried in a can of ground coffee and written boldly on it were the words, 'Harry is Alive!'

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter: A Busy Morning in the Ministry

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews. Without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.


	9. Chapter 8:A Busy Morning at the Ministry

Chapter 8: A Busy Morning at the Ministry

o –––––– o –––––– o

It was at least an hour before first light when Dumbledore roused them. Harry groaned in his state of half-sleep and muttered, "Ugh let me have a bit of a lie in. It's too early to be up."

"Sirius!" the Headmaster called. A soft whine answered him. "Sirius, wake up!" The dog yowled pitifully before a sudden splash produced a loud yip. This finally roused them both as Sirius leaped from his bed and transformed mid-leap. Harry leapt from bed with a laugh as he beheld the spectacle of his sopping wet godfather glaring at Dumbledore.

"I'll get you for that, Dumbledore, Headmaster or not," Sirius fumed.

The Headmaster smiled pleasantly and replied, "Of course, Sirius, but it had best not be today. We have a few things to sort out this morning and it would be best to see to them as soon as possible." He included both Harry and Sirius in what he said next "I expect you both to be down in my office in five minutes, or I will be forced to come up and take you down myself."

With that he left them to get ready for the day. Harry wasn't about to strip naked in front of his godfather and hurriedly put on one of the sets of new clean robes Madame Coine had brought with her last night. He then grabbed a new lace-trimmed short sleeved shirt, button-up beige shorts, and a new set of undergarments and stuffed the lot under his new robes. Harry squirmed and wrestled them on and breathed a sigh of relief as he fixed the last button on his shorts. He kicked his pajamas out from under the blue robe's hem and tried to adjust everything to rights.

Harry shook his head as he remembered the night before. Sirius had been frantic and Dumbledore had left by the time Sirius finally wound down from worrying like a mother hen. Harry had wanted to explain everything that happened but Remus had shushed him. He explained that he had to be memory charmed and Harry thought Remus didn't want his brain to get any more scrambled than it need be.

Remus didn't stay very long after that. They were both loath to say goodbye for who knew how long, and Remus drew Sirius aside to say a few words that Harry couldn't catch before they hugged and a melancholy Remus dragged his feet out the door.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry had watched Remus leave, but he hadn't had a long to dwell on it. No sooner was Remus out of sight then Sirius was demanding an in-depth account of what had happened during the last week.

Shortly after he began, Madame Coine had walked in with Harry's restoration potion and a modest pile of new clothes. She hadn't recognized Sirius, but Sirius had certainly recognized her. Harry hadn't told Sirius about Madame Coine yet and he blew up spectacularly at her. After he had found out that she had been the one to treat Harry's injuries, Sirius had relentlessly interrogated her about Harry's condition. Madame Coine had been openly hostile at the badgering until she learned Sirius' identity, then she turned sympathetic and Sirius hadn't taken that well at all. He was snappish and practically threw her out the door after the subject had turned from away Harry's condition to her speculating about how appropriate it was to put Harry in Sirius' care when Sirius had his own issues to work through. Despite the harsh dismissal, Madame Coine informed Harry that they would be leaving the next day, today now, before she left.

Harry finally told his account of the events that had brought him to the here and now after Madame Coine was gone. Sirius was ecstatic to learn that Harry had the potential to learn not one, but two Animagus forms, and after telling Sirius he could be a Metamorphmagus, he was inundated with talk about the daughter of one of his cousins who also happened to be a Metamorphmagus. Sirius was even more ecstatic when Harry mentioned that he thought someone named Nymphadora would be teaching him. "That's my cousin, Harry! It'll be great to see her again, you'll like her. She is almost as cool as I am." Sirius finished with a fond smile.

They had stayed up late into the night with Sirius expounding about how proud he was of Harry along with statements about how thrilled Prongs and Lily would have been if they were still alive. The conversation eventually lagged and Sirius started to reminisce about the Marauder's days at Hogwarts that ended with a tale that was disgusting and supposed to be funny. Harry tried to imagine it happening again, but the thought of Malfoy's robes turning translucent in the Great Hall made Harry sick to his stomach.

Sirius finally broke Harry out of his reverie. "Hey, Harry! Ready to go?"

Harry started a moment before sheepishly replying, "Yeah, ready as I'll ever be."

Sirius preceded him through the door and down the stairs into Dumbledore's office. The old man was already sitting at his desk and patiently waiting for them when they appeared. With a wave of his hand he directed them to two plush armchairs that sat before him. Sirius and Harry took their seats before Sirius abruptly asked, "So what's the plan now?" He folded his arms and looked at Dumbledore expectantly.

Harry blinked and leaned forward in his seat while Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "Good morning, Sirius, and to you as well, Harry." He stretched wearily in his chair. "I would offer you both lemon drops, but it would not do to spoil your breakfasts."

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore continued. "It has been a very long night and I found little rest, so please excuse my weariness. With your recent and unexpected discovery, Sirius, I have been forced to reformulate a few of the arrangements I had planned for young Harry's new identity."

"Well, I'msorry, Dumbledore, but you're rotten for not telling me in the first place! I deserved to know. Remus was right, you know. You are a cruel old man. Can't you trust him to keep our secret? He doesn't need to be memory charmed!" From Sirius's vehemence, Harry could tell that this had been bothering Sirius throughout the night.

Dumbledore shook his head and rubbed at his eyes,scolding in a low voice, "I know that you are aware of the fact that sometimes misdirection is necessary, however cruel it may be. The fewer who know Harry's secret, the safer he will be. Remus agreed to it and it is done."

The Headmaster turned to Harry and smiled amiably. "You will be leaving soon with Madame Coine, Harry. Sirius will not be able to come with you immediately, as I foresee we will need him to help prepare proper back stories for the both of you. Are you packed?"

Fear clenched Harry's heart at the thought of being separated from Sirius. "You better not memory charm him like you did Professor Lupin. I couldn't bear to lose Sirius, too. It's bad enough I can't tell Ron or Hermione," he said.

Sirius laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "He can't. He promised he wouldn't memory charm me without my permission."

"That is correct, Harry, you need have no fear. Sirius will be rejoining you soon, likely within a week's time. He has much to learn as well before school starts," he finished in a jovial tone.

"So what else do I have to do to get ready, then? I'mpacked, everything is in my trunk," Harry confirmed.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid you will have to leave most of your possessions behind, Harry. In order to ensure that nobody suspects our little plot, we must distribute them in a way that everyone would expect… But I suppose accommodations can be made. You will leave whatever you wish to keep to Sirius."

"It's your little plot!" Harry took a deep breath. "So, do I get to choose who gets what then?" This wasn't quite what he hoped for, but more than he had expected.

"Yes, yes it is my plot, but regardless of whose plot, it is still necessary. Now in regards to your things, you may decide what to do with them to a degree. You never wrote a will, Harry, and you died before you reached your majority. As such, the Potter Estate is subject to the terms of your father's will. Since Sirius is still a wanted criminal, and both you and Peter are presumed dead, the estate in its entirety is bequeathed to Remus Lupin. However, I will do my best to see that your personal effects are placed where you want them to be. I know you will likely want to keep as many as possible, but I heartily recommend that you leave a few things for your friends to remember you by," Dumbledore answered kindly.

Harry gathered his thoughts before replying, "Right, I think I'd like to give Ron my Firebolt and my sneakoscope. Hermione can have my chocolate frog cards, she needs to start a collection of her own one day... and any books that I have that she might want, give her those, too." Now all the easy things were dealt with, and only his truly valuable things remained. Harry took a deep breath, "I suppose you can give her the Marauder's map as well. But I want to keep my photo album and my father's Invisibility Cloak."

"That sounds reasonable, Harry. However, I do think your friends would expect the cloak to go to one of them," Dumbledore replied.

"Well, it's a family heirloom, and I want it! Sod on what my friends expect. When they don't see it, they'll think you have plans for it anyway."

Sirius grinned at Harry, "Good on you, Harry. You're right, and think of all the fun we can have with that thing."

Dumbledore glared at Sirius then turned to Harry, resigned. "I suppose there shall be no convincing you. Very well then, I will see that those items are distributed as you desire. However, for the time being, I will be keeping your wand." Harry opened his mouth to protest as Dumbledore continued, "It is too recognizable and it has itsplace in your Celebration. You will have little need of it this summer, and you will be purchasing a new wand when you go to buy your school supplies for Beauxbatons."

What was he talking about? A celebration? Harry was fond of his wand and he was afraid he might need it if he ran into Voldemort again. "What celebration? I will get it back some day, right?"

Dumbledore's understanding tonewas irritating. "When a wizard or witch dies, a part of the services held for them includes a celebration in whichall of the deceased's friends and family celebrate the memory of the dead person and share their happiest memories of the deceased. As for you regaining your wand, perhaps you will one day, when you need it."

A sudden and terrible thought struck Harry and he was ashamed he hadn't thought of it before. Hedwig! She was roosting up in his room and he'd completely forgotten her. "Headmaster, what about Hedwig? Can I take her with me?"

Dumbledore folded his hands on his desk and gave Harry a forlorn look. "I am afraid Hedwig will have to be memory charmed or destroyed, Harry. I am so sorry."

"No! You can't do that, I won't let you!" Harry panicked. The thought of harm coming to Hedwig was worse than the thought of harm coming to him. Hedwig was one of his first and most loyal friends; she kept him sane at Privet Drive, and her death or obliviation was too much for Harry to take. "If you do, I'll tell everyone that I'm Harry Potter!" Harry cried desperately.

"Harry, Hedwig is very recognizable, and she could very easily give you away. Such a risk is untenable. What would you have us do?" Dumbledore asked.

"Disguise her, charm her a few spots, I don't know. I won't lose Hedwig too," Harry answered desperately.

Dumbledore sighed and shifted his gaze to look at something behind them. Harry turned to see that the Headmaster was staring at an aged grandfather clock. "You and I have one errand we must run before you leave for France, Harry, and it would be best to be done with it as early as possible. Sirius, while we are gone, please see to disguising Hedwig and get Harry's things ready for Madame Coine. I have the invisibility cloak, but he will need his new clothes and two books – the photo album, and _Your Magic and You_."

Sirius nodded his affirmative. Dumbledore got up from behind his desk and walked to a bookshelf where he picked up a clear glass sphere that emitted a soft yellow light. "You remember our task within the Ministry, Sirius?" he asked.

Harry was lost, but Sirius obviously knew what Dumbledore was talking about, for he replied angrily, "Yes, but why in the world would you take Harry with you? Can you do anything riskier to expose him?" Sirius asked.

"Harry must come with me because he is the only one who can prevent Voldemort's success there. If Voldemort lays his hands on that which he seeks, then all of our misdirection here is in vain," Dumbledore replied soberly.

Sirius snorted "Ambiguous as usual. Can't you give a straight answer to a question for once in your life?"

Harry was even more lost. "What in the world are you two talking about? What does Voldemort want from the Ministry?"

"Something he must not have," Dumbledore replied.

"A bloody prophecy about you two," Sirius spoke over him.

"The prophecy? Will I get to hear it now?" Harry looked expectantly at Dumbledore and the old man sighed.

"It is dangerous for you to know it before you are ready, Harry, and you still have much to learn."

_Same answer, different day_, Harry thought. Harry's unhappiness must have been evident because the Headmaster spoke again."Fate can be a terrible weight Harry. I do not tell you because I care for you. I ask you to please try to understand that I only want the best for you."

Harry barely refrained from snorting in derision. "Well then, we may as well get going before more people wake up and get to work at the Ministry."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement and pulled Harry's invisibility cloak from a cabinet before handing it to him. "We will be back shortly, Sirius," Dumbledore said.

Dumbledore pulled a sock from a pocket in his robe and tapped it with his wand _"Portus," _he incanted. He looked at Harry thoughtfully for a moment before instructing, "Show me the bottoms of your shoes so I can silence them, Harry, then put on your cloak and touch the portkey. When we get there, be as quiet as you can and follow me."

Harry lifted his feet one at a time as instructed and the Headmaster tapped the soles with his wand before nodding in approval. "Bye, Sirius." Harry waved before wrapping himself in the invisibility cloak and grabbing the portkey.

He saw his godfather waving back as the familiar yanking sensation gripped him by the navel and pulled him back through the whirling lights.

Harry tried to brace himself for the stop but it was all for naught as he bowled head over heels when his feet hit the ground. Luckily there was nobody in the deserted hallway they had landed in and Harry hurriedly leapt to his feet and straightened the invisibility cloak that had gotten tangled during his fall.

"Remember to follow me, and not a sound," Dumbledore whispered once Harry was settled. The Headmaster took off down the torch-lined hall without looking back. His footsteps echoed down the halls and Harry wondered if the rest of the Ministry looked like this. It wasn't much different than the dungeons at Hogwarts.

The Headmaster's gait was quick as he led Harry down the hall. Harry winced the second time he stumbled over his invisibility cloak and concentrated so hard on his feet that he nearly walked into the old man when he abruptly slowed. Harry's breath caught as two new people appeared from behind the curve of the wall.

They looked like they were sleeping on their feet and Harry winced as Dumbledore loudly cleared his throat. "Elphias, Nymphadora, please wake up. It wouldn't do for _them_ to gain entry under your noses, would it?"

The two were a study of contrasts. The young witch with shocking pink hair and a heart-shaped face nearly jumped out of her boots and spun on her heel to face them while the old man beyond her blearily rubbed his eyes. "It's _Tonks_! Just because you're old and have white hair doesn't mean I'll let you get away with calling me anything else, Professor! What are you doing down here so early in the morning?"

"Albus," the witch's old white-haired companion acknowledged through a yawn.

"Good morning to you both. I am here on behalf of our mutual business and must gain access to the room where the prize is kept," the Headmaster kindly replied.

The witch nodded sharply and said, "Sorry to go all Moody on you, Professor, but I have to make sure you're you. Please tell us something only you and I know."

The Headmaster favored her with a smile. "I believe you broke your nose yesterday on the floor of our shared establishment when you tripped over an umbrella stand in your rush to leave after breakfast."

The old man, Elphias, laughed and slapped his thighs. "Hadn't heard that one yet, Tonks. Send you off to St. Mungo's, did they?"

Tonks snorted. "Yeah, well at least some of us don't try to chat up paintings of miserable old hags." Elphias groaned and Tonks's smile was supremely pleased.

"I suppose we can let you in then, Professor," Tonks continued as she pushed open the dark black door between her and Elphias. "Close the door once you're in and all that. There shouldn't be anyone else in there either. Workers all went home at a sane hour and nobody else has been here since."

Dumbledore nodded pleasantly. "Thank you, Nymphadora." The witch glared at Dumbledore, but he continued, "I should not be much longer than half an hour. I would prefer if no one knew that I was here. I will knock twice, two times, and then once on my way out. Open the door only if there is no one about to see me."

The two guards caught onto his seriousness and Tonks replied, "You got it, Professor." She nodded her firm understanding and saluted with her free hand.

Dumbledore shook his head in amusement, but as he did so he surreptitiously caught Harry's eye and looked sharply to the door. His message couldn't be clearer and Harry hurried through into a large circular chamber. Dumbledore followed quickly behind him and left the door slightly ajar.

They were standing in a large, circular room. The black walls were lined with more black doors exactly like the one they'd just come through. Long lines of black metallic candleholders jutted out of the walls between the evenly spaced doors, supporting dozens of strange blue-flamed candles.

The Headmaster advanced quickly across the room to the door immediately opposite the one they had entered through and pushed it open. A bright light flared through the doorway along with the curious sound of what must have been thousands of ticking clocks. Harry had to squint hard to see the Headmaster as he gestured for Harry to come in.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway and flicked his wand at something back in the chamber they'd just left. Harry barely noticed this and only dimly heard the Headmaster close the door behind him. The room they had entered was filled, wall to wall, with clocks. There were small clocks, carriage clocks, pocket watches, and grandfather clocks. There were clocks with three hands, clocks with four hands, and even clocks within clocks. They were arranged along the walls on bookshelves as well as on desks that formed lines down the room. The thing that had so thoroughly caught Harry's attention, though, was a large crystal jar in the center of the chamber. The bright light in the room found its source in the jar's glowing depths. The bloody thing was certainly impressive and nearly as tall as Harry was.

Dumbledore broke into Harry's awed examination with a gentle cough. "You can take the cloak off now, Harry. It's time we went about our business. We have to take care of something that I ought to have seen to many years ago."

"Er, where are we, sir?" Harry asked nervously.

"This is the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry of Magic. We will be using some of the tools here to create the Elixir of Youth for you, Harry. The business that we will attend to first lies in the Hall of Prophecy, beyond that door," Dumbledore explained, pointing at yet another black door beyond the rows of desks.

Dumbledore renewed his walk to the far door. "Come along now, Harry. This is no time to dawdle."

Harry slowly followed; he was reluctant to leave the jar without taking a closer look at it. There seemed to be something vaguely egg-shaped floating inside it but Harry was too far away, and the light was too bright to tell more than that. Dumbledore held the door open for him as he walked through.

This room looked very much like a dusty library, except that its shelves were filled with strange glass orbs rather than books. The sparse candles provided little illumination and gave the Hall of Prophecy a distinctly eerie feel.

Dumbledore wasted no time looking around and seemed to know exactly where to go. He interrupted Harry's curious inspection with a gentle cough. "We will be going to row ninety-seven, this way." He turned and strode quickly down the hall.

Harry followed right behind the Headmaster and briefly watched as the numbers on the ends of the shelves increased as they went along. Dumbledore turned down row ninety-seven and continued down to the far end of the shelf, where he stopped.

"Harry, do you remember what I told you about the prophecy that drove Voldemort to try to kill you fourteen years ago?" Dumbledore asked as Harry stopped beside him.

"Yeah," Harry waited for the old man to continue.

"As I said before, Voldemort does not possess the entirety of the prophecy. This orb contains a full recording of it and if you recall your dream, I believe Avery is charged with the task of fetching it. Now, however…"

Dumbledore paused to pull a dully gleaming orb from his robes. "When and if Voldemort does retrieve it, he will find not the true recording, but a fake." Dumbledore smiled deviously.

The Headmaster backed away from the shelf a half-step and raised his wand. "Harry, do you see the label over there with your name on it? The orb above it contains the prophecy. When I tell you to, please lift it up and replace it with this one." Dumbledore handed his orb to Harry.

"Sure," Harry replied and took the orb. Harry stepped close to the shelves and looked, and quickly found the orb the Headmaster was referring to.

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D_

_Dark Lord_

_and (?) Harry Potter_

Harry closely examined the orb that contained the reason behind all the tragedy in his life and shivered. How much would be different today if it wasn't for what was in this damned ball of glass? Harry stepped away from the shelf and turned to look at Dumbledore.

The Headmaster's face clouded with concentration as he leveled his wand at the dusty orb. He began with a slight vertical flick that caused all the dust on the orb to lift off it, leaving the glass sparking and clear. The next horizontal flick caused the dust to float down and to the right until it came to rest to the right of Harry's prophecy still formed in the dull shell that once encased its old home.

With the dust migration completed, Dumbledore began another spell on the Prophecy. A muttered string of Latin accompanied by a series of complicated wand movements caused the prophecy to glow red. The light intensified as Dumbledore kept incanting until, with a flick, the aura stretched like gum, ruptured, and snapped in two.

"Now Harry, only your hand may touch your prophecy," Dumbledore ordered.

Harry quickly reached forward and swapped his fake orb for the one carrying the real prophecy. The angry red cast around the original vanished at Harry's touch. Harry stroked the orb with a trembling hand and barely noticed the Headmaster placing the other red aura and dust atop the fake prophecy. A sudden urge to destroy the prophecy welled up in Harry. All that kept him from throwing it was the fact that it may be lost if he did so. What did the damn thing say? Maybe if he broke another one… he glanced at the Headmaster and reached surreptitiously for the shelves.

"Stop!" Dumbledore lunged forward to grab Harry's forearm before he could reach an orb. This was the first time Harry had ever heard Dumbledore sound afraid. "Harry, there was a reason why I had you pick up your prophecy. I told you that only your hand may touch your prophecy. Anyone that tries to remove someone else's prophecy from the shelves are driven horribly mad by the magic that safeguards them. I can honestly tell you that you would have been better off dead from your uncle's gunshot than living with the consequences of touching that prophecy you were about to pick up. Now," Dumbledore paused, "give me your prophecy." Dumbledore finished his lecture sternly and held his hand out expectantly.

"No! I want to know what it says!" Harry cried out. The thought of ending up insane in a bed for the rest of his life made him cringe while the frustration of not knowing the prophecy enraged him.

"Harry, you still are not ready to know… for many reasons. Trust me, you will know when you need to." Dumbledore replied with stern conviction. He flicked his wand towards Harry. The prophecy was wrenched out of Harry's hand and flew to the Headmaster. "We do not have time now for arguments, Harry. It is time we went back to the Time Room and prepared your elixir."

"Right," Harry began nastily, still smarting from having his prophecy stolen from him. A sudden thought came to him and he shivered. "Is it going to hurt?" The thought of actually going through a transformation like that spooked him on many levels. He didn't really want to be eleven again and being shrunk like that had to hurt.

Dumbledore favored him with a wryly sympathetic smile. "I am pleased that I can tell you the pain will be short lived ."

They quickly withdrew from the Hall of Prophecy and once they were back in the Time Room, Dumbledore led them back to the glowing crystal jar. Harry finally had an opportunity to closely examine it and found that the bell shaped jar contained a billowing, glittering wind. The egg Harry had seen before was drifting up and down along the sparkling currents inside. As it rose, it cracked and a baby hummingbird emerged; the higher up the wind carried the bird, the older it got. As it lowered it became younger, eventually returning to its egg. It was amazing, but the Headmaster had business to take care of and motioned Harry away.

Once Harry was clear, Dumbledore raised his wand once more and with a steep, arching wave he conjured a solid wooden table. With the table placed, Dumbledore dug into his pockets and produced several miniature vials, odd looking silver instruments, small paper-wrapped packets, rolled-up miniature scrolls, and a miniature golden cauldron. He set them down on the table in a deliberate manner before enlarging them with another wave of his wand.

The Headmaster momentarily turned from the table and slashed his wand vertically, like an enthusiastic classical music conductor, as he conjured a replica of Fawkes' perch in the Headmaster's office. "Fawkes will be joining us shortly, Harry," the old man informed him from over his shoulder.

"Right," Harry nervously replied. Dumbledore paid him little mind and began to work, preparing a potion. The Headmaster began by conjuring a mass of water into the bowl before he went to the vials and packets. For the most part, Harry couldn't tell what the Headmaster was adding. He only recognized a few apple quarters that the Headmaster mashed to paste and a liquid that looked like unicorn blood.

During this process Harry fidgeted; he felt utterly useless, and twice he opened his mouth to ask if there was anything that he could do to help. The second time the Headmaster kindly said, "I will ask for you to contribute in a few minutes Harry, but there is little you can do until then."

Fawkes appeared in a flaming explosion of light a few minutes later and trilled softly as he settled himself on his perch. Harry smiled nervously at the bird and Fawkes cocked his head back and shot Harry an avian glance that seemed to say, 'everything is going to be just fine.'

A faint light stemmed from the bubbling potion that the Headmaster was now carefully stirring in measured counterclockwise strokes. He stopped abruptly and lifted his silver ladle from the solution. "Stand back, Harry; if I have done this correctly, there will be a small explosion in a moment."

Then the Headmaster turned to his phoenix. "Fawkes, it is time for you to do your part," he remarked.

The phoenix nodded and Dumbledore stepped back from the cauldron. With the Headmaster away, the phoenix took flight. Fawkes leapt from his perch and with a quick flap of his wings, he circled around and soared over the room; a pearly white tear fell from his eye as he passed over the lightly boiling cauldron. The tear glittered as it fell and when it landed in the mixture there was a light dripping sound before a massive explosion nearly turned the cauldron over. Colorful streams of sparks issued from the smoking mouth of the cauldron.

"Ah, there we go." Dumbledore clapped his hands as he returned to the cauldron, obviously pleased. "Please approach the cauldron, Harry; it is time for both of us to add an ingredient."

Harry nodded numbly and shuffled towards the old man. The whole spectacle had been more amazing than any of Neville's infamous potions accidents, and Harry was feeling distinctly awed.

Harry could see into the cauldron once he was up against the table with Dumbledore. He looked inside the cauldron and was surprised by the minute amount of potion within it. What he did see was a silvery solution in the bottom that seemed to reflect a gleaming rainbow of color depending how he looked at it. "Now, Harry," the Headmaster broke into his reverie, "the final two ingredients before we add Fawkes' ashes are four drops of our own blood. I must go first. Please observe my technique and follow it exactly."

Harry watched attentively as the Headmaster carefully pricked his index finger with a pin and carefully squeezed four fat drops of blood into the potion. The Headmaster put the pin down out of Harry's reach and picked up a shiny wooden ladle that he used to stir the potion for about thirty seconds before turning his attention back to the teenager. "Now, Harry," Dumbledore handed him the pin.

Harry carefully took the pin and pricked his own finger. It stung a bit, but Harry ignored it. He carefully squeezed his fingertip from the second knuckle up, rubbing to the tip, and coaxed a fat drop of blood to form from his fingertip. He carefully shook it off so that it landed into the mixture. The first drop of his blood caused the mixture to glow, the second made it brighter, the third made it iridescent, and the fourth drop all but extinguished the light. What remained when Harry looked into the cauldron was a fine golden liquid.

"Excellent, Harry! Now please stand back; it's not ready for you yet." the Headmaster said.

Harry stepped away from the cauldron, giving Dumbledore plenty of room to work. The Headmaster took one last large packet in hand and emptied measured handfuls of fine white ash into the mixture. He then used the wooden ladle to combine it. With that done, the Headmaster turned his wand to the crystal jar with the floating egg. He whispered an incantation under his breath that Harry couldn't catch. The winds in the jar slowly began to still and the egg slowly dropped until it sat stationary just above the glass bottom.

He then spread out one of the parchments on the table and took one of the large silver devices up in hand. Dumbledore carefully went about setting up the device around the jar. It was a large silvery ring supported by three silver stands. Where the ring met each stand there was a little knob that was obviously to be used to adjust the ring's position. The characters on the knob, as well as those on the parchment that the Headmaster was referring to as he set the thing up, looked like complete gibberish to Harry.

Dumbledore must have noticed his befuddled expression as he kindly said, "If you had elected to take Arithmancy, it is possible you would have some clue as to what I was doing, Harry." Harry blushed slightly and stepped away.

When he was finished with the dials, the Headmaster grabbed his wand again. With another flick, the old man caused the silver ring to activate. The ring made a low humming sound and a dim and dark green light quickly encased it. Another quick incantation caused the winds to stir again, but curiously enough, the egg stayed where it was.

The Headmaster then reached deep into his robes and pulled forth a familiar blood-red crystal – a Philosopher's Stone! Harry watched with great intrigue as the Headmaster carefully formed the now pasty white mixture around the stone and levitated it from the cauldron.

"Fawkes, if you please, I believe some singing is in order," Dumbledore politely asked the phoenix.

As phoenix-song filled the air, Dumbledore levitated the white stone over the rim of the jar and lowered it into the wind. The stone didn't seem to visibly change as it descended, but when it reached level with the silver ring that surrounded the jar a green light flared and the stone stopped in its tracks. Dumbledore once more pointed his wand at the jar and this time Harry caught part of the incantation, 'S_iste Ventum Temporis.'_ The wind stilled and Fawkes went mute, and Dumbledore levitated the stone out of the jar and restored the winds and egg to their previous condition.

Dumbledore then produced a miniature pewter cauldron from his pockets that he enlarged and placed on the table. He then broke the white-green shell off the stone and into the cauldron. He beat it into a fine powder with a silver pestle and cast '_Incendio_' in the cauldron.

A bright flash of golden fire erupted from the cauldron. "Just about done," the Headmaster said pleasantly. He took up a beaker that was filled with a silvery-mercurial liquid and poured the golden ash from the cauldron into it.

The Headmaster picked up a glass stirring-rod from the table and stirred the mixture until the golden flecks were evenly dispersed in the solution. "One last ingredient… Fawkes! A tear please." The phoenix flew over to Dumbledore and perched on his shoulder. The Headmaster then lifted the beaker so that Fawkes could wink a tear into it.

The liquid inside turned a clear gold and seemed to glow with an inner light. The Headmaster strode to Harry with a bright smile on his face. He held out the beaker towards the teen and enthusiastically urged, "Please drink it quickly, Harry; the longer it sits, the less pleasant the transformation."

This was all so much to take in and Harry swallowed hard as he took the beaker in his nervous hands. He blinked hard. If Dumbledore wanted him to do this, it couldn't be that bad, right?

He was wrong. A furious burning sensation enveloped him once he swallowed the potion. Fire laced his veins and Harry screamed. His skin felt too tight and Harry glanced down at his arms to find them glowing with a golden light. His back and limbs seemed to be squeezing down on themselves and his fingers visibly shrunk before his eyes. He dropped the beaker in shock and swayed where he stood.

The glow faded and the fire in his blood slowly cooled. Harry sighed in relief and staggered a step before he promptly collapsed on the ground. Dumbledore sighed softly before grinning. "You look like a first year again, Harry," the Headmaster informed him.

Harry groaned in response. He tried to move, but could manage only to twitch. He couldn't raise his head to look at himself, but he certainly felt smaller. All in all, he was too spent to think much, all he wanted was a comfortable bed where he could rest. He watched dazedly from the floor as Dumbledore gathered up the rest of his materials and cleaned up all the mess.

"It doesn't appear you have the strength to leave on your own power, Harry." Dumbledore walked behind him and cast what must have been _Mobilicorpus_ on him. He lifted a meter into the air and hung there while Dumbledore picked up his Invisibility Cloak off the ground and covered him with it.

Harry could only stare at the ceiling as the Headmaster floated him out of the Time Room and back to the door to the entrance corridor. He knocked twice, two times, and then once before stepping away from the door.

A moment later the door swung open and Tonks appeared in the doorway. "Get what you were looking for, Professor?"

"Indeed, everything is in order," Dumbledore calmly replied. He favored her with a smile before announcing his intent to leave. "There is much yet to do today and I must be off. I hope you both have a pleasant day. Tonks, Elphias."

"Dumbledore," they both replied respectfully.

After they moved out of the way Dumbledore discretely floated Harry up the corridor to where they entered. When they were out of sight of Tonks and Elphias, Dumbledore stopped and pulled out the sock again. He took Harry's hand out from under the cloak and wrapped it around the sock before he charmed it, '_Portus.'_

An instant later the portkey activated and carried them both back to Dumbledore's office, where Sirius was impatiently pacing.

"Well? Get everything done then? Where is Harry?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"He is exhausted, but here," Dumbledore replied before lifting the Invisibility Cloak. "Everything has been taken care of, Sirius."

Harry tried to smile up at Sirius as he beheld his godfather's anxious face. "I'm alright," he yawned, "just tired."

Sirius smiled with obvious relief. "So when are Harry and Madame Coine leaving, then?" Sirius changed the subject.

The Headmaster carefully lowered Harry into one of his office chairs. "In about fifteen minutes I believe." Dumbledore replied after checking his watch.

"Right," Sirius swallowed. He turned to Harry and said, "Well I guess this is good-bye for a week or so. It would be pretty hypocritical for me to tell you to be good." Sirius paused for a moment. "Just don't cause Madame Coine enough trouble so that she kicks you out. I can't wait to join you and I want there to still be a place to stay when I get there." Sirius shot Harry a forced smile.

"I can't wait either," Harry wearily replied.

Dumbledore took his seat behind his desk and Sirius sat next to Harry, nervously laying his hand on Harry's arm in what he must have thought was a comforting gesture.

They waited in silence for ten minutes for Madame Coine to arrive. It was broken only by the re-appearance of Fawkes, who appeared near the ceiling in a flash of flame, before gliding down to perch on the arm of Harry's chair.

When Madame Coine came through the office door, she found two thoughtful old men and a younger Harry weakly stroking Fawkes's head. Sirius jerked his head around to see her and Dumbledore lifted his gaze to her eyes. "Ah, good morning, Madame. Are you ready to leave?"

"Oui, I am ready, 'eadmaster. I just need 'Arry's zings." She advanced into the office with a large satchel slung over her shoulder.

The Invisibility Cloak, his new clothes, and the two books went into the weightless and bottomless satchel. After everything was packed, Sirius turned to Harry with a mournful expression on his face. "Well I guess this is it, Harry. See you soon." He leaned over his godson and gave him a tight hug. Harry weakly tried to hug him back.

Dumbledore got up from his desk and approached Harry from the opposite side. "Harry, there is a large mirror in your bedroom in the tent. I will be using it as a portal to access your tent. I will be coming through it tonight at six o'clock for your Occlumency lesson."

Harry acknowledged the Headmaster with a nod. "I'll be there," he softly replied. He turned to Sirius. "Bye, Sirius. I can't wait to see you again." He directed as warm a smile as he could manage at his godfather.

"Bye, Harry," Sirius mumbled sullenly.

Dumbledore stood away from Harry and conjured a large metal bar that he charmed into a portkey before handing it to Madame Coine. "Farewell, Harry. I look forward to seeing you tonight. Touch the bar when you are ready."

Harry nodded and reached out to touch the portkey, and the world disappeared in a roaring whirlwind of flashing colors.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter: A Week in France.

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa and Fuzzbutt. Please make sure to thank them in your reviews. Without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.

My good friend Chloé was kind enough help me with the Latin translations:

Stop, Winds of Time :_ siste ventum temporis_


	10. Chapter 9: A Week in France

** CHAPTERS 1-8 HAVE ALL RECEIVED SIGNIFICANT EDITS. YOU MAY WANT TO REREAD THEM TO KEEP THE STORY STRAIGHT. CHAPTER 8 IN PARTICULAR HAS MANY CHANGES. THIS WARNING WILL BE REMOVED AT THE NEXT UPDATE.   
**

o –––––– o –––––– o

Chapter 9: A Week in France

o –––––– o –––––– o

The blurring colors and flashing lights lasted longer than with any other portkey Harry had used before. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, the sensation ceased and Harry fell flat on his back with a loud thud.

"Ugh," he groaned. He weakly ran his hands over what he felt to be a smooth wooden floor in an attempt to find something to pull himself up. The attempt proved futile, he was still too weak; he gave up and gazed up at a high plaster ceiling. "Madame Coine!" he croaked.

"Oi! I am vairy sorry, 'Arry!" She tried to pull Harry up, but her efforts only resulted in Harry weakly backpedaling before his feet gave out beneath him and he crashed back down and fell against a beige loveseat.

He still felt very weak from the transformation and from the way Madame Coine was looking at him; it seemed she had realized that Harry wouldn't be walking anywhere anytime soon. She pulled out her wand and cast _Mobilicorpus _on him.

As he lifted off the ground and spun around, he found he was in a large parlor that was well furnished with walls lined with oak bookshelves, antique sofas, and a large window through which he saw an open lawn and a row of tall trees. He floated down a short hall, up a stairwell, and through a door into a box-filled room where he could see lines of roof trusses across the ceiling. They were in the attic.

He stopped moving when he was just barely into the room, and Harry craned his neck as Madame Coine walked around him to open the entry flaps of a large gray tent. He tried to raise his head further to peek inside, but the _Mobilicorpus _spell held him still. Madame Coine didn't dawdle while Harry strained and twisted back behind him to lead him through the tent's entry.

For all that Harry rolled his eyes, he couldn't see much about the room beyond the fact that it had white walls and contained a few wooden chairs and a leather couch. Then they were through a door and into a narrow white hall. Madame Coine floated Harry through the second door on the left, into a plain room, and lowered him onto a soft bed before ending the spell.

The medi-witch walked around the bed so that she was standing over him. "Professor Dumbly-door 'as said zat you will need some sleep after ze change. I 'ave some things to do now, but I will be back for supper. I will leave your zings on ze dresser. Is zair anything zat I can get for you so zat you are not so bored when you wake up?"

"Er… A book would be fine. If you've got _Hogwarts, a History_, I'd like that, but if you don't I suppose _Your Magic and You_, which should be in there will do." The first request was purely spiteful and a twinge of guilt stirred in Harry's gut. It wasn't likely that Madame Coine had any more choice in this than he did.

Madame Coine pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment. "I will see about zis 'ogwarts book." She moved out of sight to the foot of the bed, and Harry heard her rummaging in her satchel. "I will leave ze Magic book on ze nightstand, 'ere. I will see you later, 'Arry." Harry turned his head to watch her place the familiar book on a glass and brass nightstand and walk out of the room.

Harry rolled his head back and weakly wiggled beneath the covers with his clothes still on. He blinked slowly, sighed, and smacked his mouth. He really was tired; his eyelids fell and it wasn't long until he fell asleep.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry felt much stronger when he woke several hours later. Harry was surprised at how normal the room looked. The wizarding tent that he had shared with the Weasley males was much more cramped, but this room could have belonged in any house. The room's furnishings included two beds, nightstands, desks, and wardrobes. There was a large mirror to the left of his head; probably the one Dumbledore had mentioned earlier. A pair of books sat on his nightstand, and the one on top was boldly labeled, _Hogwarts, a History._

He hadn't expected Madame Coine to get it, and he cringed as he took it up and began reading. It was dreadfully dull, and Harry soon found it difficult to concentrate on the stuffy pages. His thoughts began to wander and soon turned to Dumbledore. By the clock on his nightstand, he would be contacting Harry soon. What would he think of seeing Harry reading this particular book? It was this thought alone that kept Harry from putting the book down.

It was only a few minutes later when a chime startled Harry from his reading. It had come from the mirror. A moment of silence followed before Harry heard Dumbledore's voice. "Hello, Harry, are you there?"

"I'm here, Headmaster!" Harry tensed on the bed.

"Ah, excellent! I am coming through, please keep clear of the mirror, Harry." Harry watched as the mirror suddenly began to ripple, it looked like a vertical pond that had a rock thrown in it. It lasted only a second before Dumbledore passed through and tapped the mirror with his wand, stilling it and sealing it shut.

Harry pointedly kept his eyes on the book, and firmed his grip on it when he heard the Headmaster cough. "Harry, you know that I am aware of your feelings. There is no need to be childish, please put the book down so we can begin our lesson."

Harry put down the book and scowled. "I've already read the chapter on Occlumency in that other book, _Your Magic and You_. It didn't say much about making that shield you were talking about."

Dumbledore took a seat on the bed facing Harry. "I wouldn't expect it to. Each wizard forms his own shield in his own way. I have placed a number of wards on this tent to isolate your magic. Your connection with Voldemort should not be active while you stay here, regardless of what you feel. It is very important that you stay in the tent, Harry. At least until you've perfected your shield, and possibly longer."

"What? I have to stay trapped like a rat in here all summer?" It was unfair having to leave his friends, but this was just too much.

"Sirius and Nymphadora will be arriving in a week or so, at least then you will have some company. Is there anything I could bring you to make this easier?" He actually sounded like he meant it.

"Yeah, I could really use my wand."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, "Your wand is needed yet for the rest of your funeral rites. I told you that you could not have it, Harry. Perhaps once you have adjusted to these circumstances, we can find your father's wand for you."

Harry scowled but remained silent. Arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere with the old man.

"Now on to the lesson; as I said, each wizard and witch who practices this form of magic has his or her own way of creating his or her own personal shield. Usually it involves concentrating on your magic and then envisioning some form of shield that surrounds you. Some wizards use an incantation to facilitate the magic. In my case, I gather my magic and project a flexible shield of blue energy. Another man I know creates a shield of fire. Each and every shield is different and consequently has different strengths and weaknesses. The best way to learn this technique is to simply test different variations until we find one that works. Do you have any questions before we begin?"

"No, sir."

Dumbledore sighed, "Well, then, try to clear your mind and concentrate on your magic."

What! This wasn't what he had been trying before. "You're supposed to concentrate on your magic? All this time I've been trying to keep my mind totally blank when doing these stupid exercises in the book."

"Harry, all magical manipulation requires some attention to magic, why would this be any different?"

"Right then," Harry mumbled. "I'll try, will you be doing something to test for a shield then?"

"Indeed I will," Dumbledore smiled at him.

Harry spent the next hour trying to repeat the mind-clearing exercises from the book with this new concentrating on magic approach. They tried several different shields including the flames and blue energy, but went on to try shields of emotions, other elements, and physical sensations. They stopped when Madame Coine walked in on them trying a pain shield. That hurt, and Harry was more than willing to defer the lesson in favor of the dinner that Madame Coine had brought with her.

Dumbledore stayed for dinner and left after setting up another lesson the following evening and admonishing Harry to keep practicing and to stay in the tent.

o –––––– o –––––– o

The next morning found Harry restless. He scrambled out of bed and found the weakness from yesterday's transformation was gone. He spotted his clothes on top of the right dresser, there were two of them opposite Harry's bed—and dressed himself with a pair of shorts and a shirt.

He packed the rest of the clothes away and turned to look at the mirror. He hadn't thought of it yesterday, but the idea of having Dumbledore casually walking into his bedroom wasn't appealing. He would definitely be asking to have it moved. Other then that, there wasn't anything else that needed changing in the room and he walked out the side door to explore the rest of his prison.

He vaguely remembered the hallway from yesterday and found a bathroom immediately across from his bedroom. A little farther down the hall there was another door, on the right, and it lead to another room that was obviously set up for a girl.

Between his bedroom and the girly one, on the opposite wall, was an open archway that lead to an outdoor garden and jacuzzi. Harry took a quick cursory look of the patio and surrounding lawn. There was a tree just inside the door and the room was walled with waist-high flowerbeds and enchanted walls. The enchanted ceiling showed a sunny day outside. The walls looked almost like he could walk into them, they were beautiful scenes of an animated countryside, with leaf-shaking breezes and rolling hills of grass. If he were to sit down and stay there, Harry knew it was a view he could enjoy.

Harry stepped back into the hall and continued to the end where he found two more doors. One on the archway side revealed an empty closet, and the other revealed another stretch of the hallway that ended with the tent flaps. Midway down the hall there were two large open-doorways. Through the left one he found a comfortable looking parlor with a leather couch, tea table, and fireplace. The right doorway led into a kitchen with a table, chairs, cupboards, sink, oven, wizarding wireless, and a grandfather clock. In the far corner of the room was a door that led to a pantry.

He fetched some bread and cheese and noticed a calendar on the wall. Harry had quite forgotten what day it was in all the excitement of the past few and counted forward from the day he got back from Hogwarts. His best guess was that it was the 10th. It hardly seemed possible that only a week had passed since Uncle Vernon had picked him up at Kings Cross.

Harry wandered out of the kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and his bread and cheese in the other. He looked at the entry and wished he could go out; he felt trapped and isolated, he didn't even know when Madame Coine would be coming back. For all practical purposes, Harry was alone.

The whole day was dreadfully boring. Harry spent most of his time beneath the plum tree in the outdoor room reading. Every few minutes found Harry looking towards the open door to the hallway, hoping someone would come. The sun was setting in the enchanted walls before Madame Coine showed up.

" 'Arry! I am vairy sorry I for leaving you alone today. I was vairy busy at ze school and one zing was leading to anuzzer and I was zere ze whole day. It is looking as eef I will be gone every day. I will try to be 'ere as much as I can, but so far as anyone else knows, I 'ave no reason to spend much time here. 'Ou are dead and not here, and I 'ave other responseebilities zat I must see to. Zose are all excuses, I know. I will try to see you at least one time a day, it is ze best zat I can do. We will be 'aving French Lessons once ze uzzers arrive."

That sounded almost rehearsed and Harry tilted his head as he regarded her quizzically. He had been lonely today and was disappointed that it looked like today was the start of a monotonous routine. It wasn't something Harry thought he could change by arguing. He grimaced sourly and went along with her changing the subject. "Err, why do I have to learn French? Aren't there charms we can cast so I won't have to?"

"Oi, zere are charms zat make you speak French and zere are charms to make you 'ear French and I will be teaching you both of zem. When you are under ze charms you will 'ear any language as if eet was English, and when you speak English ze words will be French. Zere are many bad sides, you will be sounding like ze dictionary and you cannot say anyzing in any language but French with ze speaking charm and you will hear only English with ze 'earing charm. So you see, Zere are many good reasons for you to learn ze language. It is a skill zat will be vairy useful and if you come back 'ere, it will make you look tress sophisticate."

Harry sighed after hearing that litany. It was just what he needed, more lessons for things he didn't really want to learn in the first place. This crazy plan of Dumbledore's was turning into more and more of a headache as time went on. "I guess you're right. Before we eat, do you think you can move that mirror out of my room? I don't fancy having Dumbledore walk in on me there when I'm not expecting him. There is a nice spot by the sofa."

Dumbledore walked in on them just after they finished their evening meal. "Dobby has already been asking about you, Harry. He would be quite disappointed to see you doing house-elf work, as he calls it."

Harry heard the Headmaster's smile efore he looked up and saw it. "I don't need him for every meal, sir. You said to use discretion when calling him; I will be fine so long as there is something in the pantry." No, Harry wasn't about to burden Dobby with more work when Harry didn't need his help.

"He does miss you, Harry, and there is precious little to keep the house-elves occupied through the summer. I am sure he would enjoy your company if you would have him."

"If notheeng else 'e can clean ze 'ouse." Madame Coine added with a wink.

"Couldn't that be inviting trouble, Madame Coine?" Harry scowled before pausing thoughtfully, "err… do you have any house-elves?"

"Non, I do not, but zere are 'ouse-elfs in ze Château across ze lake. Zere are also groundskeepers who maintain ze estate. Zat is why you must be in ze tent all day, 'Arry, and also why I cannot 'ave Dobby's 'elp."

"I am aware this week in particular will prove to be a challenge to your patience, Harry. If there is anything that either of us can bring you to make this time easier, please do not hesitate to ask." Dumbledore added.

"Right," Harry sighed. "Well if you think I've adjusted to my circumstances, I suppose you could let me use my father's wand. Maybe I could review a few spells to keep me from rotting." Harry looked down as he finished. A sudden idea had occurred to him, the beginnings of a scheme to make his time a bit more exciting, and he did not want Dumbledore to see it.

The Headmaster gave Harry a long considering look as the youth raised his head. Harry tried to concentrate his thoughts on the vanishing spell and Dumbledore lifted his chin to look down his nose at Harry. "I did indeed bring the wand with me… and I suppose you may use it after I bind it accordingly. I did tell you that all of your magic must be contained within the tent, and that most definitely includes this wand."

Madame Coine stood up with her empty plate. " 'Arry and I will clean up 'ere in ze kitchen while you do ze binding, Dumbly-door. Come 'Arry, you can 'elp me feenish wiz ze dishes."

Harry stepped quickly to Madame Coine's aid and Dumbledore disappeared into the hall. It didn't take them long to clean the dishes by hand, and they found Dumbledore waiting for them in the parlor when they stepped out of the kitchen.

"Harry, I am very serious about you keeping your magic inside the tent, and I will warn you now that failure to do so may result in grave consequences. It will not work outside this tent, but if you try to break the binding the wand will likely be destroyed. I trust we both want to avoid that."

"Yes, Headmaster. I promise, I'll only cast spells with it inside the tent." Harry said. It was best not to try to look too innocent when you wanted to pull something over on anyone, and he'd have to not-try his best to do so with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore regarded him suspiciously for a minute before playing the wand in Harry's hand. "Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Madame. Harry and I have an Occlumency lesson to see to. If you would please excuse us?"

After Madame Coine left, Dumbledore turned to Harry with a smile and gestured at the couch. "We may as well get comfortable, Harry."

Harry nodded and sat. "Will my shield get stronger with more practice?" Last night Dumbledore had been able to break through with ease no matter what Harry had tried.

"You will find that once you have settled on a technique to construct a shield, refining it and possibly building upon it are only matters of time and practice." Dumbledore gave Harry a reassuring look and folded his hands in his lap. "Now then, shall we begin?"

They spent another hour practicing. It had become a routine: Harry would clear his mind, try to imagine and construct the best shield he could, and Dumbledore would shatter it with discouraging ease.

Harry was staring sullenly at the ground, fresh from another failure, when Dumbledore announced his departure. "I think that is enough for tonight. Perhaps you could spend some time tomorrow pondering other techniques to construct your shield. I will return tomorrow evening."

Harry didn't reply and Dumbledore sighed and shook his head before leaving through the mirror.

Harry spent the rest of the evening listening to the Wizarding Wireless in the kitchen while he thought through his plan for tomorrow. He couldn't understand anything that the French wizards were saying, but he eventually found a music station that played songs with a good beat. He listened to the methodic beat for several minutes while absently twirling his father's wand. Eventually he stopped and smiled; satisfied, he turned the Wizarding Wireless off and went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry put his plan into action the next morning. There was no way that he was just going to rot in this tent all summer long, and this looked like a great chance to have a bit of fun. His brief glance through the window two days prior had shown a pleasant yard that he wanted to explore. It looked nice, and he was sure that he could go out safely if he was careful with the Invisibility Cloak and cast a few Concealment charms.

There were all sorts of good reasons to 'risk' it, he rationalized. What if the tent was attacked? He would need some place to run. Maybe he could learn something, or find something important. At the very least it could be exciting… and it would annoy Dumbledore if he ever found out. That last motive both emboldened Harry and caused a guilty twinge. In his heart he knew his scheme was wrong, but his rebellious resolve wouldn't let him be deterred.

After a quick breakfast he picked up his father's wand and cast a Silencing charm on his shoes and another to make them erase his tracks. He left the wand on his nightstand and donned the Invisibility Cloak before he walked out of the tent and into Madame Coine's cramped attic.

The door was unlocked and Harry cautiously peeked out and tiptoed down the stairs. The house looked much different when he wasn't staring at the ceiling. He walked down the hall and, after a few turns, happened upon a stairwell that led to the ground floor. He exited the house from a sliding glass door in the kitchen and walked out onto a small brick patio.

He looked ahead at the line of trees that he remembered seeing from the window when he arrived. Harry walked out onto the lawn and looked up to examine the scope of the house. It was a mansion compared to the orderly houses he was used to seeing on Privet Drive. The painted white walls ran twenty meters in either direction. There were two full stories, with a slanting roof and a deck outside the master bedroom. Windows lined both stories, and the west side of the bottom floor had full length ones that looked into a lavish living room.

A gravel path packed a ring of large flowerbeds up against the house. After a few moments spent inspecting, Harry returned to it and made a quick circuit around the structure. It was odd to walk soundlessly on gravel; the lack of any crunching sound made it feel like he was walking on air.

There was a large garden and greenhouse off the eastern side of the house. Harry recognized several of the plants from Herbology and from yard work at Privet Drive. The south side, the front, of the house sported a grand front door with a brick entry and a cobblestone path that lead south into a thick wood. The woods crept up to within fifty meters of west side of the house, and continued off into the distance.

Harry made it back to the patio he started from and crossed the lawn to the line of trees he'd seen before. As he approached them he noticed plump yellow fruit hanging among their heart-shaped leaves - apricots.

The trees had blocked Harry's view before, and a large stone castle came into view as he walked up the slight rise to their base. He stopped beneath the eaves of one of the trees and took in the view. Far to Harry's right there was a wide road that snaked northward around a moderate lake and up the side of a large knoll to the gates of the walled castle. Even from a distance, the castle looked immense and very old.

Harry stayed by the trees, examining the castle and the surrounding area. The slopes of the knoll were home to rows of grapes and a large meadow stretched between the knoll and lake. The western line of trees continued around the knoll, and wide open country extended east beyond the road.

The ground sloped sharply down beyond the trees to the lake's pebble beach. There must be some sort of magic in the lake: the water was far too clear, a crystalline blue that allowed Harry to see the leafy bottom as if it were a Muggle swimming pool. He wet his hands in the lake and washed them. They came back odorless and felt clean.

By this time the sun was directly overhead, it was almost lunch time. The Headmaster's chiding from last night came back to Harry, and he rushed back to the house and into his tent to be there in case Dobby took it upon himself to see that Harry was fed.

The hours ticked away inside the tent. Harry's worry had been for naught; he spent the afternoon alone in the tent going over Occlumency exercises and waiting for someone to come. The sun was setting in the outdoor room when Harry finally heard Madame Coine calling his name. Harry was anxious to hear whether anyone questioned his wandering. Nobody said anything though, and Harry went to bed idly thinking about getting a closer look at that castle across the lake.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Midmorning found Harry walking across the lawn to the apricot trees on silenced feet. _Your Magic and You_ nestled under his shoulder for use in the likely instance that he got bored. Harry didn't expect there would be much to see from this side of the fence and truly thought that he would be as bored out here as he would be in the tent. But here he was relatively free in an unknown place rather than in Dumbledore's cupboard in who-knows-where.

Harry skidded to a halt at the base of the apricot trees. He could see someone sitting in the meadow across the lake. A blanket was spread on the crest of a grassy mound with an adult woman sitting upon it. Harry dropped to the ground, remembering only when he was down that he had his cloak. He took a few calming breaths and peeked over the rise at the woman. She possessed a full and elegant figure with long blonde hair; she didn't look like she would more than a meter and a half tall when standing. He started at her sudden shout.

"Gabrielle, Marie, ne volez pas si près des arbres! Vous allez vous faire mal!"

Harry let out a relieved breath as he saw her gesturing away from him. He followed her westward gaze and spotted two young girls flying just over the tree-line to their caretaker. They couldn't be more than eleven. One had shoulder-length ebony hair and the other's pale blonde reached down her back.

Harry watched wistfully for half an hour as the girls flew over the meadow trying all sorts of inexperienced maneuvers. The girls flew more alone than together in wide circles with moderate climbs and baby dives. They shouted to each other in French from time to time and looked to be having lots of fun. Harry's hands ached to hold his own broom and fly with them.

Eventually they wearied of their aerial game of tag and flew down. With a heavy sigh, Harry stood as well and picked up his book. He was just turning to head back to the house when he heard it.

Running footsteps accompanied a menacing growl. Harry started to run for the house but he wasn't fast enough. Something grabbed the trailing edge of his Invisibility Cloak and yanked it off him. He kept running and took a quick peek over his shoulder to see an angry looking dog tossing his cloak aside as it bounded after him.

Harry tried to run faster, the house was getting closer, but he knew he wasn't going to make it. He needed to get away. If only he had his broom, he could fly. Unbidden, an image of his falcon form flashed in his mind. A voice spoke urgently inside his head. "Concentrate Harry! Feel your magic! Be the Falcon!"

The dog was leaping to catch him and Harry frantically tried to do as the voice directed. A wrenching sensation ripped through him and suddenly he was different. The dog sailed over him and fell on its face, rolling head over heels.

Harry tried to stand up and lost his balance. The world looked different. He felt like he was only a foot tall now; the grass was up to his chest! He _felt_ different, too; he had to lean back to stay upright and his hands… they were gone. He looked over himself and tried to shout. He squawked. He was covered with dark blue and brown feathers. Realization came to him as the dog gathered itself to leap at Harry again. He flapped his wings and took off, remembering at the last moment to grab the Invisibility Cloak in his talons.

The dog's leap carried it through the robe, and Harry was out of its reach. Harry flew unsteadily toward Madame Coine's house and found an open window on the second floor. The dog meanwhile started barking up a storm and in the distance Harry heard one of the girls yell, "Pret!"

He flew unsteadily through the window and crashed into a bookshelf on the other side of the room. Harry flopped on the floor and tried to focus on being himself… and nothing happened. He concentrated as hard as he could on what he usually looked like and tried to feel his magic. Still there were no results.

A sense of doom came over him, and he half flew and half walked through the hallways to the attic stairs. It took him the better part of an hour to open the door, but he finally managed it by gripping it with his talons and throwing himself around in a circle. He pulled his father's cloak inside the attic and shut the door before flying through the tent flaps.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry dropped the Invisibility Cloak the moment he entered the tent. Once again he tried to reverse the transformation. And failed. He tried again and again, and with each time he felt the need to be himself diminish. At first he had been filled with the fear of being found out. Dumbledore would be angry that Harry had left his sanctuary.

His fears and concerns slowly faded, reason and thought being replaced solely by instinct. Soon Harry had stopped trying to change back to a human. There was no reason to do so, and soon he forgot that he had changed himself into a falcon. He was comfortable in his nest and would stay here until he left to go hunting. There were no enemies here and the tree in the outdoor room was a fine perch.

The sun slowly set in the outdoor room when a shuffling noise rose from the door, followed by measured footsteps. The falcon watched as an old man walked down the hall without looking into his garden.

"Harry? ..." The footsteps approached again and the old man glanced briefly around the room before backing out again.

"Harry!" The voice was louder.

The falcon continued to look at the door. Harry… yes, he was Harry. Maybe he should go to the old man. He was calling his name; there was no reason not to.

The falcon hoped from his perch and flew down the hall in pursuit of the anxious old man. With a hard beat of his wings, the falcon propelled himself through the air so that he could alight on the old man's shoulder.

The old man started at the touch and threw the falcon off his shoulder and onto the floor where he landed headfirst. A hand came down and lifted him so he could see into the old man's shocked blue eyes.

"Harry?"

The falcon screeched. Yes, he was Harry! The old man's chin-hair stirred as he exhaled sharply. "What in the world have you done, young man?"

The falcon blinked.

The old man shook his head and stepped away before producing a short stick. He pointed it at the falcon and a flash of blue-white light exploded from it and hit the bird.

A dim wrenching sensation wracked the falcon once again, sharply and quickly fading and taking with it his awareness until everything turned black.

o –––––– o –––––– o

Harry slowly blinked his eyes and groaned. Dumbledore was here, towering above him, and looking very unhappy.

"What do you think you were doing, Harry? Trying the Animagus transformation without any research or guidance is beyond dangerous. Even though you were lucky enough to complete the physical part alone, I could tell you had lost your humanity. The animal had taken over, and if I had not found you, you would have lived out the rest of your days as a falcon in the forests of France."

Harry closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Shame filled him, and he said nothing. There wasn't anything to say.

Dumbledore waited a moment before continuing in careful soft tones that belied his angry eyes. "Well then, perhaps you would care to tell me how your father's Invisibility Cloak was ripped? It appears an animal with large teeth came upon it and tried to tear it apart."

"Ugh." Just when he thought things couldn't get worse—he had ruined his father's cloak. He hadn't noticed it getting ripped up by the dog.

"Yes, it appears to me that despite my strict recommendation to remain in here, you decided to take it upon yourself to venture out and take matters into your own hands. Is there anything else that I should know?" Harry was surprised there wasn't any frost on Dumbledore's beard.

"Er…" Harry tried to focus. He had gone outside with his book and cloak. There were two girls flying on brooms… he didn't think they could have seen him… the dog came and he picked up his book and ran… the book! He'd lost the book. "Yeah, I lost _Your Magic and You _ when I transformed. There was a dog after me, it came out of nowhere, and I heard a voice in my head. It told me to focus on the falcon. I did it, I focused and then I turned into one. I flew into the house, but I couldn't change back."

Dumbledore's beard twitched during the telling. "You heard a voice? Did you recognize it, Harry? It wasn't Voldemort, was it?"

"No, not him. I… it was someone else, a woman. She has a beautiful voice. I think I've heard it somewhere before, but I can't remember where."

The Headmaster covered his eyes with a hand and exhaled audibly in relief. "So long as it wasn't Voldemort, we should be alright. Please try to remember who it was, Harry. It is rare to have a foreign voice speaking in your mind, and it is beyond rare for it to be friendly."

Harry gulped and shot a helpless look at the Headmaster. "I'll try, I promise."

Dumbledore nodded in acceptance. "Very well then; we can still hold your Occlumency lesson as usual."

It was a particularly draining session and Harry thought the Headmaster's mental probes were a bit more vicious than they had been during the last lesson. They certainly were more frequent.

An hour and a half of brutal training passed before Madame Coine entered the tent carrying a familiar book. It was _Your Magic and You_, and it was ripped.

"You will never guess where I 'ave found zis, Dumbly-dorr. Claire brought eet to me zis afternoon, zair dog 'ad found it on ze lawn." She finished with an accusing look at Harry. " 'Arry, do you know 'ow zis came to be? It is yours, non?"

"Err.." Harry began.

"We have settled that matter, Aileene. Thank you for retrieving the book; will you be able to repair it?"

The angry woman opened her mouth and closed it before growling, "Yes, I can feex it. What will be 'appening to Harry now? I zink more wards are needed, oui?"

Harry buried his face in his hands. How much grief was he going to take for this?

"Indeed, I will place them when I leave… and I will be taking James' wand with me." Dumbledore had mentioned that during their lesson.

"It's so boring in here. I need something to do. I'll go nutters if I have to stay here alone all summer," Harry protested.

"Sirius and Tonks will be here in four days, surely you can stand being isolated that much longer. You do have your lessons to see to, and I am still hopeful that you will realize how important they are," Dumbledore reprimanded.

Harry pouted. "Yeah, yeah I know, and I'll be a good boy till Sirius and Tonks get here."

"And afterwairds too, I 'ope!" Madame Coine declared with a pointed look.

Harry grunted in response.

"Well, I am afraid I must be leaving you now. I will be back tomorrow evening, Harry. Be good." Dumbledore left with no more ceremony.

Madame Coine sniffed disapprovingly and stalked out with a tart, "I weell see you soon, too," before she left as well.

Harry laid down on the couch and sighed. He had a feeling these next four days were going to be long and boring. Maybe it was time to take Professor Dumbledore up on his recommendation and summon Dobby. It would be nice to have a properly cooked meal again.

o –––––– o –––––– o

The next four days passed without incident, and as Harry expected they were exceedingly dull. He spent most of each day in the outdoor room reading his books, soaking in the jacuzzi, and munching on snacks.

Dobby had been a welcome distraction from the monotony, and Harry had summoned him for every meal since the falcon incident. His cheerful repartee had yet to fail in improving Harry's dismal mood.

When Harry woke on the morning of the sixteenth he reflected that this week hadn't been that bad. This prison wasn't nearly as bad as Privet Drive. There were plenty of things for him to be thankful for: he ate well, he didn't have an endless list of chores, and this was certainly a much more comfortable cell than Dudley's second bedroom at number four. Best of all though, Sirius would be coming today, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the thought.

o –––––– o –––––– o

AN: Next Chapter: Scenes from Summer

This chapter was beta'd by Lisa. Please make sure to thank her in your reviews. Without their efforts my work wouldn't be as great as it is.

I'm sorry it took so long to complete the edit and get going again. Chapter 10 is just about done and will be going to my betas by this weekend, so the wait for the next update shouldn't be nearly as long as the wait this time. I am very thankful to my betas, they are very good, and it is only because I posted without having anyone read over my work that this ugly edit became necessary. I hope you all agree that this story is much improved from what it was before, and I look forward to reading your reviews.

I've drawn a few maps of the places that Harry has and will be visiting in the story. Currently I have posted a map of the inside of the tent as well as a partial & incomplete map of the estate that houses Madame Coine's house. They're both in the files section of my yahoo group if you care to look at them, there is a link to the group in my profile.

French Translation courtesy of Chloé:

Gabrielle, Marie, ne volez pas si près des arbres! Vous allez vous faire mal: Gabrielle, Marie, Don't fly so close to the trees! You could hurt yourselves!

It has been two months since I last updated and more than that since I posted responses to reviews. I will be posting review responses again not next week but the beginning of the following one.

Cheers,

The Mongrel


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